Bring out your lotions and toiletries,
And decorate your long hair.
Oh, you’re still enjoying your sleep, wake-up.
Even your destiny has woken up,
Its spring here, rejoice.
You snobbish lady with arrogant looks,
The King Amir is here to see you;
Let your eyes meet his,
Oh my love, rejoice;
Its spring here again.
[Translated from ‘Aaj Basant Manaalay’]
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What a glow everywhere I see, Oh mother, what a glow;
In my courtyard;I have found my pir Nizamuddin Aulia.I roamed around the entire world,looking for an ideal beloved;And finally this face has enchanted my heart.The whole world has been opened for me,Never seen a glow like this before.Whenever I see now, he is with me,Oh beloved, please dye me in yourself;Dye me in the colour…
You’ve taken away my looks, my identity, by just a glance.
By making me drink the wine of love-potion,You’ve intoxicated me by just a glance;My fair, delicate wrists with green bangles in them,Have been held tightly by you with just a glance.I give my life to you, Oh my cloth-dyer,You’ve dyed me in yourself, by just a glance.I give my whole life to you Oh, Nijam,You’ve…
Tonight there came a news that you, oh beloved, would come –
All the gazelles of the desert have put their heads on their handsIn the hope that one day you will come to hunt them….The attraction of love won’t leave you unmoved;Should you not come to my funeral,you’ll definitely come to my grave.My soul has come on my lips (e.g. I am on the point of…
Dye me in your hue, my love,
Dye me in your hue.My scarf, and the beloved’s turban,Both need to be dyed in the hue of spring;Whatever be the price for dyeing, ask for it,You can have my blossoming youth in mortgage;Dye me in your hue.I have come and fallen at your door step,For you to safeguard my pride, my dignity,You are my…
The yellow mustard is blooming in every field,
The koyal chirps from branch to branch,And the maiden tries her make-up,The gardener-girls have brought bouquets.Colourful flowers of all kinds,In hands everyone’s bringing;But Aashiq-rung (the lover) , who had promised to comeTo Nizamuddin’s house in spring,Hasn’t turned up – its been years.The yellow mustard is blooming in every field.
I am a pagan and a worshiper of love: the creed (of Muslims) I do not need;
the (Brahman’s) girdle I do not need.Leave from my bedside, you ignorant physician!The only cure for the patient of love is the sight of his beloved –other than this no medicine does he need.If there be no pilot in our boat, let there be none:We have god in our midst: the sea we do not…