Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Shiv Kumar Batalvi's - "Eh Mera Geet - My Song" (Presentation - Desh Ratna)

Eh Mera Geet

Eh mera geet
Kise na gaana.
Eh mera geet
MaeN aape ga ke
Bhalke hi mar jaana!

Eh mera geet dharat toN maela,
Sooraj jeD puraana.
KoT janm toN piya asaahnu
Is da bol haNDHaana.
Hor kise di jaah na koi
Is nu hoTHeeN laana,
Eh taaN mere naal janmeya
Naal bahishteeN jaana.
Eh mera geet
MaeN aape ga ke
Bhalke hi mar jaana!

Es geet da ajab jiha sur,
DaaDHa darad raNjhaanaaN.
Katak maah vich door pahaaReeN
KooNjaaN da kurlaana.
Noor-paak de vele rakh vich,
ChiReeyaaN da chichalaana
Kaali raate sarkaRiyaaN toN
PaunaaN da laNgh jaana!
Eh mera geet
MaeN aape ga ke
Bhalke hi mar jaana!

MaeN te mere geet ne dohaaN,
Jad bhalke mar jaana,
BirhoN de ghar jaaeeyaaN saahnu
KabareeN labhan auna.
Sabhna saaeeyaaN ik avaaze
MukhoN bol alaana:
Kise kise de lekheeN huNda
EDa darad kamaana.

Eh mera geet
Kise na gaana.
Eh mera geet
MaeN aape ga ke
Bhalke hi mar jaana!
Eh Mera Geet - My Song

Do not sing
My song.
I must sing this song
Myself,
And then die.

This song is more soiled than the earth,
As old as the sun,
For many births I have had to live
The weight of its words.
No one else has the ability
To bring voice to it.
This song was born with me,
And will die with me.
I must sing this song
Myself,
And then die.

This song has a rare melody,
It is filled with pain.
It is like the shriek of cranes
Heard from distant mountains in autumn.
Or the clamor of birds in a forest,
Heard in a chaste dawn.
Or the sound of the wind flowing through high grasses
Heard on a black night.
I must sing this song
Myself,
And then die.

When I and my songs
Both die,
They who inhabit separation-houses
Will seek out my grave.
With one voice,
They will declare,
“Only a very few are fated
To shoulder such pain.”

Do not sing
This song of mine.
I must sing this song
Myself,
And then die.

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