اج آکھاں وراث شاہ نوں کِتوں قبراں وچوں بول
...تے فیر کتابِ عشق دا کوئی اگلا ورقا پھول
اک روئی سی دھی پنجاب دی تو لِکھ لِکھ مارے وين
اج لکھاں دھياں روندياں تينوں وارث شاہ نوں کین
اٹھ دردمنداں دیا درديا اٹھ تک اپنا پنجاب
اج بيلے لاشاں وچھياں تے لہو دی بھری چناب
کسے پنجاں پانیاں وچ دتی زہر رلا
تے انہاں پانیاں دھارت نوں دتا پانی لا
اس ذرخیز زمین دے لوں لوں پھوٹیا زھر
گٹھ گٹھ چڑھیاں لالیاں فٹ فٹ چڑھیا قہر
اوہنے ہر اک ونس دی دتی ناگ بنا
اس ھر اک وسدی ونجالی دتی ناگ بنا
پہلا ڈنگ مداریاں، منتر گۓ گواچ
دوجے ڈنگ دی لگ گئ جانے کاہنوں لاگ
پلو پلی پنجاب دی نیلے پے گۓ انج
ّگلیوں ٹٹے گیت فیر تکیلیوں ٹٹی تاند
ترنجاں نوں ٹٹیاں سہیلیاں چرخے گوکر بند
سانے سیج دی بیریاں لڈن دتیاں روڑ
سان ڈالیاں پینگ اج پپلاں دتی توڑ
جتھے وجدی سی پھوک پیار دی وی او ونجھلی گئ گواچ
رانجھے دے سب ویر بھل گۓ اودھی جاچ
دھرتی تےلہو ورسیا قبراں پیاں چون
پریت دیاں شاہزادیاں اج وچ مزاراں رون
اج سبھے کيدو بن گئے ايتھے حُسن عشق دے چور
اج کتھوں لياواں لبھ کے ميں وارث شاہ جيا ہور
Today, I call Waris Shah, “Speak from your grave”
And turn, today, the book of love’s next affectionate page
Once, a daughter of Punjab cried and you wrote a wailing saga
Today, a million daughters, cry to you, Waris Shah
Rise! O’ narrator of the grieving; rise! look at your Punjab
Today, fields are lined with corpses, and blood fills the Chenab
Someone has mixed poison in the five rivers’ flow
Their deadly water is, now, irrigating our lands galore
This fertile land is sprouting, venom from every pore
The sky is turning red from endless cries of gore
The toxic forest wind, screams from inside its wake
Turning each flute’s bamboo-shoot, into a deadly snake
With the first snakebite; all charmers lost their spell
The second bite turned all and sundry, into snakes, as well
Drinking from this deadly stream, filling the land with bane
Slowly, Punjab’s limbs have turned black and blue, with pain
The street-songs have been silenced; cotton threads are snapped
Girls have left their playgroups; the spinning wheels are cracked
Our wedding beds are boats their logs have cast away
Our hanging swing, the Pipal tree has broken in disarray
Lost is the flute, which once, blew sounds of the heart
Ranjha’s brothers, today, no longer know this art
Blood rained on our shrines; drenching them to the core
Damsels of amour, today, sit crying at their door
Today everyone is, ‘Kaido;’ thieves of beauty and ardour
Where can we find, today, another Warish Shah, once more
Today, I call Waris Shah, “Speak from your grave”
And turn, today, the book of love’s next affectionate page
And turn, today, the book of love’s next affectionate page
Once, a daughter of Punjab cried and you wrote a wailing saga
Today, a million daughters, cry to you, Waris Shah
Rise! O’ narrator of the grieving; rise! look at your Punjab
Today, fields are lined with corpses, and blood fills the Chenab
Someone has mixed poison in the five rivers’ flow
Their deadly water is, now, irrigating our lands galore
This fertile land is sprouting, venom from every pore
The sky is turning red from endless cries of gore
The toxic forest wind, screams from inside its wake
Turning each flute’s bamboo-shoot, into a deadly snake
With the first snakebite; all charmers lost their spell
The second bite turned all and sundry, into snakes, as well
Drinking from this deadly stream, filling the land with bane
Slowly, Punjab’s limbs have turned black and blue, with pain
The street-songs have been silenced; cotton threads are snapped
Girls have left their playgroups; the spinning wheels are cracked
Our wedding beds are boats their logs have cast away
Our hanging swing, the Pipal tree has broken in disarray
Lost is the flute, which once, blew sounds of the heart
Ranjha’s brothers, today, no longer know this art
Blood rained on our shrines; drenching them to the core
Damsels of amour, today, sit crying at their door
Today everyone is, ‘Kaido;’ thieves of beauty and ardour
Where can we find, today, another Warish Shah, once more
Today, I call Waris Shah, “Speak from your grave”
And turn, today, the book of love’s next affectionate page
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