Shiv Kumar Batalvi's - "Vidhva Ruht" (Presentation - Desh Ratna)

Vidhva Ruht Maae ni Das mereeye maae Is vidhva ruht da – Ki kareeye. Haae ni Is vidhva ruht da – Ki kareeye. Is ruhte sab rukh nipatare Mahik-vihoone Is ruhte saaDe sukh de sooraj SekoN oone. Maae ni par vidhva joban Hor vi loone. Haae ni E loona joban ki kareeya? Maae ni is vidhva rut da ki kareeye? Is ruhte SaaDi peeR ne vaal vadhaae Gham da sooti doodha ves haNDHaae Rakhe roze geet na hoTHeeN laaye Haae ni Is ruhte kithe Dub mareeye? Maae ni Is vidhva ruht da – Ki kareeye? Maae ni Ih ruht kidhe laR laaeeye Kis nu edhe jooTHe aNg CHuhaaeeye? Kis dharmi de vehRe booTa laaeeye? Haae ni Ihnu kihRe phul maNg vaheeye? Maae ni Das mereeye maae Is vidhva ruht da – Ki kareeye. Haae ni Is vidhva rut da – Ki kareeye?		Vidhva Rut O mother, Tell me mother! What should I do In this widowed season? Tell me What should I do In this season of loss? The trees are leafless in this season, Without fragrance. The sun of my happiness has no warmth, In this season. But even more bitter Is my youth that is widowed, Tell me, What should I do With this bitter youth? My pain has let its hair grow out In this season It has worn the milky white clothes of sorrow, Kept the fast, not sung a song. Tell me Where can I drown myself, In this season? What should I do In this widowed season? O mother! To whom can I attach myself in this season? Who can I touch with these contaminated limbs? At whose righteous door can I plant this sapling? O woe! What flowers can I shower upon it? Mother, Tell me mother O mother, Tell me mother! What should I do In this widowed season? Tell me What should I do In this season of loss?

Shiv Kumar Batalvi's - "Umara De Sarvar" (Presentation - Desh Ratna)

Umara De Saravar Umara de saravar SaahvaaN da paani Geeta ve chuNj bhareeN Bhalke na rahine PeeRaaN de chaanan HaavaaN de haNs sareeN. Geeta ve chuNj bhareeN Geeta ve UmaraaN de sarvar CHaliye Pal-CHin bhar suk jaaNde. SaahvaaN de paani Peele ve aRiya Anchaahiya phiT jaaNde. Bhalke na saahnu daeeN ulaambhaRa Bhalke ne ros kareeN Geeta ve chuNj bhareeN HaavaaN de haNs SuneeNde ve lobhi, Dil marda taaN gaaNde. Ih birhoN rut haNjhu chugde Chugde te uhD jaaNde. Aese uDde maar uDaari MuR na aaun ghareeN, Geeta ve chuNj bhareeN Geeta ve, ChuNj bhare taaN teri Sone chuNj maRaavaaN. MaeN chaNdari teri bardi theevaaN Naal theeae parCHaavaaN, HaaRa e ve Na tu tirhaaiya Mere vaaNg mareeN, Geeta ve chuNj bhareeN Umara de saravar SaahvaaN da paani Geeta ve chuNj bhareeN Bhalke na rahine PeeRaaN de chaanan HaavaaN de haNs sareeN. Geeta ve chuNj bhareeN

Umara De Sarvar From this life-pond, o my song Fill your beak With the water of my existence. It will not stay until tomorrow - The radiance of pain, Or the swans of grief. Fill your beak today. Listen ,o my song, Life-ponds are deceptive, They dry up in a flash. The water of existence Turns ashen and sour Though you wish it would not happen. Do not blame me tomorrow Do not be angry tomorrow, Fill your beak today. I am told that the swans of grief Are greedy. When a heart dies, they sing. They gather tears in the season of separation, Gather them and fly. They fly away, such a flight do they take, They never return home. Fill your beak today. O my song, If you fill your beak, I will wrap it in gold, I will become your slave, I will become your shadow. I beg you, Do not, like me Die thirsting, Fill your beak today. From this life-pond, o my song Fill your beak With the water of my existence. It will not stay until tomorrow - The radiance of pain, Or the swans of grief. Fill your beak today.

Shiv Kumar Batalvi's - "Udharaa Geet - A Borrowed Song" (Presentation - Desh Ratna)

Udhaara Geet Saahnu Prabh ji, Ik adh geet udhaara hor diyo. SaaDi bujhdi jaaNdi ahg, ANgaara hor diyo. MaeN niki umare Saara darad haNDHa baeTHa, SaaDi joban ruht lai Darad kuaara hor diyo. Geet diyo mere joban varga, Saula Toone-haara. Din chaRde di laali da jyuN Bhar sarvar lishkaara. Rukh vihoone thal vich jeekan Pehla saNjh da taara. SaNjh hoi saaDe vi thal theeN Ik adh taara hor diyo, JaaN saahnu vi laali vaakan Bhar sarvar vich khor diyo. Prabh ji, din bin meet na beete, Geet bina na beete Audh haNDHaani har koi jaane Darad naseebi seete. Har pahtan de paani Prabh ji KihRe mirgaaN peete? SaaDe vi pahtana de paani ] Anpeete hi roR diyo, JaaN jo geet likhaae saathoN O vi prabhu ji moR diyo. Prabh ji, roop na kade salaaheeye JihRa ahg toN oona. Us akh di sifat na kareeye Jis da haNjh aloona. Darad –vichuna geet na kaheeye Bol na mahik vihoona. Bol je saaDa mahik vihoona TaaN Dali toN toR diyo, JaaN saahnu saaDe joban varga Geet udhaara hor diyo. MaeN nihke umare Saara darad haNDHa baeTHa, SaaDi joban ruht lai Darad kuaara hor diyo.

Udharaa Geet - A Borrowed Song Give me, O Lord A few more songs. My fire is dying, Give me a spark. At a very young age I exhausted every sorrow. For my youth Give me a fresh pain. Give me a song, like youth itself, Beautiful, magical. Like the redness of a rising day That sparkles in a brimming lake. Like the first star of the evening That shines in a treeless desert. Night is approaching my desert, Give me a star or two, Or let me sink, like the evening redness, Into the brimming lake. Lord, life is unbearable without a companion, Unbearable without a song. We all know that life has to be lived, That pain has been sewn into it. Do the deer drink the water At every shore? Let the water at my shore Be washed away, undrunk. Or take back the songs That you let me write. Lord, we should never extol beauty Which is empty of fire, Nor praise those eyes Whose tears lack salt. We should not sing a song bereft of pain, Or write a word devoid of fragrance. If my words are without fragrance Tear them from the branch, Or give me another song, Like youth itself. At a very young age I exhausted every sorrow. For my youth Give me a fresh pain.

Shiv Kumar Batalvi's - "UcheeyaaN PahaaReeyaaN De -- High Mountains " (Presentation - Desh Ratna)

UcheeyaaN PahaaReeyaaN De UcheeyaaN pahaaReeyaaN de, Uhle uhle suraja, RishmaaN di laab piya laae! Peeli peeli dhupaRi nu- Bhan bhan poTiyaaN theeN TeeseeyaaN nu baaNkaRi luaae! GihTe gihTe paunaaN vich – Vagan sugaNdhyaaN ni, NeeNd payi pakheruaaN nu aae! Saave saave rukhaaN deeyaaN – JhaNgeeyaaN ‘ch kool koi BaeTHi algojaRe vajaae! PaaneeyaaN de sheeshe vich Mukh vekh kamiyaaN de, Roun paye ni paht kumalaae! Nihke nihke ghuNgaroo ni – Paun baNh paeraaN vich, ADiyaaN mareeNdi Turi jaae! KooleeyaaN karooNbalaaN te – Suhte jal-biduaaN ‘ch Kirana ne deevaRe jagaae. AuNde jaaNde raaheeyaaN nu PaTola jehi soun-chiRi, Maar maar seeTeeyaaN bulaae! Neele neele aMbaraaN ‘ch UDe abaabeel koi, Kirana di kaNgani payi khaae! MiTHaRi tarael di – CHabeel laake phul koi CHiT CHiT bhauraaN nu pilaae! Boohe khali titali – Fakeerni nu maulsari Khaer payi sugaNdheeyaaN di paae. Es rute peeR nu – PiyuNd la de haukiyaaN di, Vaasta ee dheeyaaN da ni maae! Thaki thaki peeR koi NeejhaaN deeyaaN DaNDiyaaN te Pole pole ausiyaaN payi paae! TuT paen miTHa miTHa - Biraha ni athara – Viche vich haDiyaaN nu khaae. Sajana de mel da – KaDHa de CHeti saahiya koi, ChaeN saaDe deediyaaN nu aae. Sajana de baajh jahg – AsaaN laTbaureeyaaN nu, Aakh aakh jhaleeyaaN bulaae. Es piNd koi nahiyoN – Saka saaDa ameeye ni, JihRa saaDi peeR nu vaNDHaae! Es ruhte sajana toN baajh – Tere piNd maae, Ik pal kaTiya na jaae! UcheeyaaN pahaaReeyaaN de, Uhle uhle suraja, RishmaaN di laab piya laae! Peeli peeli dhupaRi nu- Bhan bhan poTeeyaaN theeN TeeseeyaaN nu baaNkaRi luaae! December 1960

High Mountains The sun peeks out From behind the high mountains, Planting little seedling of light. It crushes the yellow sunshine Into small pieces, Making anklets for the mountain tops! Ankle deep in the wind Flow perfumes, The birds fall asleep. Through a clump of green trees A water channel flows Piping a melody! Seeing the blue lotus In the mirror- like water The drooping leaves weep. The wind has tied Tiny anklets around its feet, And stamps her heels as she walks! Raindrops asleep On soft, tender shoots, Are lit by sunbeams. A tiny, golden bird Calls to the travelers With shrill whistles. In the clear blue sky, A kite circles, Among the rays of light. A flower becomes a drinking station, As it offers droplets of sweet dew To the bees. A butterfly is at the door – The maulsari spreads its fragrance generously, Like alms to a mendicant! In such a season, In the name of your daughters, Cover my pain With a layer of sighs. An old, tired ache Plays guessing games, On the paths of my sight. A sweet, moody separation Breaks over me, And eats into my bones. Unearth a way that I can Meet my beloved, And relieve my longing for a glimpse of her. Bereft of our beloved, We infatuated ones, Are called insane. There is no one here mother, Whom I can call my own, Who will share my pain. At such a time, without my beloved, I cannot spend a moment In your town. The sun peeks out From behind the high mountains, Planting little seedling of light. Crushes the yellow sunshine Into small pieces To make anklets for the mountain tops!

Shiv Kumar Batalvi's - "Tu Vida HoyoN - You Left" (Presentation - Desh Ratna)

TooN Vida HoiyoN Tu vida hoiyoN Mere dil te udaasi CHa gayi, PeeR dil di booNd ban ke AkheeyaaN vich a gayi. Door tak meri nazar Teri paeR nu chumdi rahi, Fer teri paeR RaahaaN di miTi kha gayi. Turan toN pahilaaN si Tere joban te bahaar, Turan piCHoN vekhiya Ki har kali kumla gayi. Us din piCHoN asaaN Na boliya na vekhiya, Ih zabaaN khaamosh ho gayi te nazar pathra gayi. Ishk nu saugaat jihRi PeeR saeN tooN de giyoN, ANt uheeyo peeR ‘Shiv” nu KhaaNdi khaaNdi kha gayi.

Tu Vida HoyoN - You Left You left, And grief cast its pall over me. My pain condensed into a drop And rose into my eye. For a great distance My sight kissed your footprints, Until the trail Was swallowed by the dust of the road. Before you left, There was the bloom of your youth, I turned around after you left And every flower had wilted. Since that day I stopped speaking, I could not see. My tongue was silenced My sight turned to stone. The pain that you gifted To love, Was the pain finally That consumed ‘Shiv’

Shiv Kumar Batalvi's - "TitleeyaaN - Butterflies" (Presentation - Desh Ratna)

TitaleeyaaN MaeN titleeyaaN phaRdi phiraaN. MaeN titleeyaaN phaRdi phiraaN. ZiNdagi di khubsoorat- Pushp-basti mahikdi choN, Soun raNgeeyaaN, neeleeyaaN, ChamkeeleeyaaN te peeleeyaaN, Sochdi jaaN saareeyaaN toN- Van- suvani phaR lavaaN, Te tetale jahe khaMb usde MoDHeeyaaN vich jaR lavaaN. Par jadoN maeN phaRan lagaaN Is taraaN dil kaMb jaaye, Jis taraaN koi shaakh mahindi di Hava vich thartharaae, Door titli uhD jaaye. Phul gunaah de dhupp kaale SupniyaaN vich khiRan lagan, Mahik khiRe itar-bhini- DhaRkanaaN vich pasar jaaye. UDadi uDadi titleeyaaN di - Sohal jahi paTnaar aaye. Phul gunaah de vekh Tahike Mast jahi ho baeTH jaaye. MaeN aNjaani phul saare ToR jholi paa lavaaN, Par jadoN maeN Turan lagaaN Jholi meri paaT jaaye. Te door titli uhD jaaye. MaeN vallalli sochdi haaN - Ki phaRaaNgi titleeyaaN. Bhar ghamaaN di sarad poh vich Phul khushi de saR gaye, Vel saavi aas di de Paht naroye jhaR gaye. Vekh ni oh shaah sihaaeeyaaN VaadeeyaaN vich DHilak aaeeyaaN, Chugan gaeeyaaN door DaaraaN HasrataaN diyaaN parat aaeeyaaN. zinNdagi di shaam hoi KaNwal dil de sauN gaye, Trael katare aatma de Dul gaye, kujh pi gaeeyaaN. Ni svaad la la titleeyaaN. Jad kade vi raat beetu Sochdi haaN din chaRhega. MuR bhulekha kaalkhaaN da SoorajaaN nu na ravega. SaaNjh da koi kaNwal doodhi, DhartiyaaN te khiR pavega. Aas hae ke fer aRiya Mahikdi us gulfashaaN choN, Titali maeN phaR sakaaNgi.

TitleeyaaN - Butterflies I catch butterflies, I catch butterflies. From the beautiful Flower-scented garden Of life, I catch Golden-colored, blue, Shimmering and yellow ones! I think that if catch them all, From the entire forest. I will jab their butterfly wings To their shoulder. But whenever I try to catch them, My heart begins to tremble Like a branch of henna That shivers in the breeze. And the butterfly takes flight. Flowers of sin, like some black sun , Bloom in my dreams Their perfume-sodden fragrance Spreading through each heartbeat. A delicate, queenly butterfly Comes fluttering by, Delighted to see the flowers of sin, She alights, intoxicated. I, unaware, pluck all the flowers And put them into my cloth bag. But when I start to leave The cloth tears, And the butterfly takes flight. How foolish I was to think That I could catch a butterfly! The cold winter of grief Scorched my flowers of happiness. The green vine of hope Shed its healthy leaves. Seeing this darkness, They slipped back to the valley, they returned, The red birds that had flown far to seek Their desires. It is the evening of life Lotus-hearts lie asleep. The dew drops of my life Have spilled, some sipped Deliciously, by the butterflies. As the night goes by, I think that day will surely dawn, That once again the sun will not err, Regarding darkness. A milky lotus of the evening Will bloom upon this earth again. I hope that once again, In that perfumed garden I will be able to catch butterflies.

Shiv Kumar Batalvi's - "Shikra - The Hawk" (Presentation - Desh Ratna)

Shikra - The Hawk Maae! Ni maae! MaeN ik shikra yaar banaaiya. Uhde sir te kalgi, Te uhde paereeN jhaaNjhar, Te o chog chugeeNda aaiya. Ni maeN vaari jaaN! Ik uhde roop di Dhup tikheri, Dooja mahikaaN da tirhaaiya, Teeja uhda raNg gulaabi Kise gori ma da jaaiya. Ni maeN vaari jaaN! Naeni uhde Chet di aathan, Ate zulfeeN saavan CHaaya. HoTHaaN de vich kahte da Koi dihooN chaRne te aaiya. Ni maeN vaari jaaN! SaahvaaN de vich Phul soiyaaN de Kise baag chanan da laaiya. Dehi deh vich kheDe chetar, ItraaN naal nuhaaiya. Ni maeN vaari jaaN! BolaaN de vich Paun pure di, Ni o koyilaaN da hamsaaya. ChiTe daNd jyuN dhaano bagala, TauRi maar uDaaiya. Ni maeN vaari jaaN! Ishke da Ik palaNgh nuwaari AsaaN chaananiyaaN vich Daahiya. Tan di chaadar ho gayi maeli Us paer ja palaNghe paaiya. Ni maeN vaari jaaN! Dukhan mere NaenaaN de koye, Vich haR haNjhuaaN da aaiya. Saari raat gayi vich sochaaN Us e ki zulam kamaaiya. Ni maeN vaari jaaN! Subaah savere Lae ni vaTana AsaaN mal mal us nuhaaiya. Dehi vichoN niklan chingaaN Te saaDa hath giya kumhalaaiya. Ni maeN vaari jaaN! Choori kuTaaN Te o khaaNda naaheeN Uhnu dil da maas khavaaiya. Ik uDaari aesi maari O muR vatani na aaiya. Ni maeN vaari jaaN! Maae! Ni maae! MaeN ik shikra yaar banaaiya. Uhde sir te kalgi Te uhde paereeN jhaaNjhar, Te o chog chugeeNda aaiya. Ni maeN vaari jaaN!

Shikra - The Hawk Mother! Mother! I befriended a hawk. A plume on his head Bells on his feet, He came pecking for grain. I was enamored! His beauty Was sharp as sunlight. He was thirsty for perfumes. His color was the color of a rose, The son of a fair mother. I was enamored! His eyes, Were an evening in springtime. His hair, a dark cloud. His lips, A rising autumn dawn. I was enamored! His breath Was filled with flowers, Like a sandalwood garden. Spring danced thru his body So bathed was it in fragrances. I was enamored!. In his words Blew the eastern breeze, Like the sound of a blackbird. His smile was the whiteness of a crane in the rice fields, Taking flight at the clap of a hand. I was enamored!. I laid A bed of love In the moonlight. My body-sheet was stained The instant he laid his foot on my bed. I was enamored! The corners of my eyes, Hurt. A flood of tears engulfed me. All night long I tried to fathom How he did this to me. I was enamored! Early in the morning I scrubbed and bathed my body With vaTana. But embers kept bursting out, And my hands flagged. I was enamored! I crushed choori, He would not eat it. So I fed him the flesh of my heart. He took flight, such a flight did he take, That he never returned. I was enamored! Mother! Mother! I befriended a hawk. A plume on his head Bells on his feet, He came pecking for grain. I was enamored!