Tuesday, November 23, 2010

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.

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