I ask Waris Shah (1) today to speak up somewhere from the graves
And to turn to a new page of the book of love
Once, when one daughter of Punjab wept, you had hit out by writing
Today a million daughters weep and implore you, Waris Shah:
Arise, O friend of the distressed! Arise, see the plight of your Punjab
Corpses lie strewn in the fields and Chenab is filled with blood
Someone has mixed poison into the waters of the five rivers
And that water is now irrigating the land
This fertile land is sprouting poison,
the horizon has turned scarlet-red and the curses fly to the sky
The poisonous wind that passes through the forest
Has transformed each bamboo-shoot into a cobra
The first snake-bite made the snake-charmer forget his spell
And the subsequent bites have addicted the people
They have been bitten again and again
And in no time, the limbs of Punjab have turned blue
Silenced are the songs in the streets, the thread of the spinning-wheels snapped
The girls have fled the courtyards, the whirr of the spinning wheels halted
The wedding beds and the boats have been thrown away
Today the branch with the swing on the Pipal has broken
The flute through which blew the breath of love is lost
All the brothers of Ranjha today have forgotten this art
Blood rained on the earth and the graves are leaking
And the princesses of love are crying amidst the tombs
All have become Qaidon (2) today, thieves of beauty and love
Today, wherefrom shall we get yet another Warish Shah?
I ask Waris Shah today to speak up somewhere from the graves
And to turn to a new page of the book of love