Mother, O Mother, the eyes of My(mourning) Songs sore with pangs of separation!
They wake up in the middle of the night and weep for my dead Love, O! Mother, I cannot sleep!
Soaked in perfume, I blind them(weep) in the moon light; even then, do not share my pain.
Even if, I console the song(s) with warm sighs, O Mother, even then start biting me ferociously.
I am still young, and need guidance myself, who can teach it (not to tease me)! O Mother, tell it to weep with clench his lips, so that the people may not hear it crying!
Tell it to injest the bread of separation, my destiny is fated to mourn.
Lick the salty dew(tears) on the roses of sorrow,(my cheeks) so that your heart is solaced.
Who are those snake handlers who can find me the matching skin?
How one can stand like Yogis at the doorstep of these greedy mourning songs.
O my pain, the Love is that butterfly which always sits on the thorn!
(O Mother) Love is that bee from which even the desire stays thousands of miles away.
(O Mother) Love is that palace where nothing except fir the birds live.
Love is that yard where the colored-bridal-bed cannot be spread, Mother, tell him not to call out the name of my dead love so loudly in the middle of the night.
I fear, when I am dead, this maliciously
I fear, when I am died, this malicious world, may not say that my SONGS were evil.
Mother, O Mother, the eyes of My Songs sore with pangs of separation!
The songs wake up in the middle of the night and weep for my dead Love, O Mother, I cannot sleep!!! Mother, O Mother !!!!!