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306
THE INDIAN ANTIQUARY.
. NOVEMBER, 1906.
Kthô hamd Khuda un nii, Rassiya, Jinné khalqat pâi hai. Ek nál dusjé dé ve, Rassiya, Sitrat khiib ralii hai. Ek ashig Rabb dé ve, Rassiya: Eknán bázi lái hai. El luar khalótê ve, Rassiya : Ek nan jit duhai hai. Ek shér ķhudi dé vé Rassiya: Ele marzis umar gaw.it hai. Un fauj kufár di ve, Rassiya, Nézé nál lehapiti hai. Wuh bare baladur vd, Rassiya, Jis par karm Ilahi hai. Shahó Atké challóá vé, Rassiya : Maiibi Qibul tórt hai. Wuh Alak bhaléri vé, Rassiya, Jis tutti jóri hai. Main atá gunddi vé, Rassiya, Lál péyá méri jhóli hai. Shahó kharchi ditti ve, Rassiyd, Na sau đi bộri hai. Mai ghathari phóli vi, Rassiyd, Vich susi kóri hai. Hun ghar vich rahnui vi, Rassiya, Eh qismat méri hai.
Praise God, my friend, Who created all things. One with the other, my friend, He has indeed Atly adapted. Some love God, iny friend : Some run a race, Some have lost, my friend : Some have doubly won. Boine are lions of God, my friend : Some have lost life by sickness. They conquered the army of blasphemers, my friend, With the spear. He alone is brave, by friend, Who has God's grace. My lover goes to A tak, my friend : I will go even to Qabul with him. Blessed be the Atak, my friend, Where our severed love is reunited. I was kneading my dough, my friend, When a cbild was born to me. My husband gave me expenses, my friend : A bag of nine hundred rupees. I found new cloth, my friend, For trousers in it. Now I shall have to live at home, my friend, It is my fate.
7.
Charkla méri ránglá: Mal daggé dariya. Å baho meré sánh né, Kattán tumhiré chd.
My spinning wheel is of many colours: The thread runs like a river. Come and sit in front of me, I will spin more looking at you.
Dilli de darvairi
At the gate of Dilli Sóni gaya raka,
Gold is soll. Té kadé na bhairi dikhiya,
My bard husband never said, • Páli nath ghard.'
'I will give you even a hollow nose ring.' Dilli de darivajte
At the gate of Dilli Tóta parhé Qurán.
A parrot read the Quran. . di billi, la gai,
A cat came and carried it off. 'éri stirat tôi qurban.
Lovely bird, how pretty you looked. Lal, dotare-prilia
My lover, with your two striaged instrument Nimri tar baja.
Play a mournful tuue. Qahr pad léri lár nan.
Terrible strings, Gai kalejá khd.
They have carried away my heart. Wugdi Rivi, mihi vé.
The Ravi flows, my lover. Vich kanak da bata
There is a plant of wheat in it Ek jawani, mahi ve,
On account of my youth, iny lover, kang pahila jhuta.
I feel the force of love. • Love is compared to a river in food, and the trembling heart to a stalk of wheat in the ourrent, - weak and unable to resist.
