Shiv Kumar Batalvi's - "PeeRaaN Da Paraaga -- The Pan Of Sorrows" (Presentation - Desh Ratna)

PeeRaaN Da Paraaga Ho geya kuvela maenu, Dhal gaeeyaaN CHaavaaN ni, BeliyaaN choN muR aaeeyaaN MajhiyaaN te gaavaaN ni, Paaiya chiReeyaaN ne cheek-chihaaRa Ni peeraaN da paraaga bhun de. BhaTi vaaliye. ChaMbe diye Daaliye, Ni dukhaaN da paraaga bhun de. CHaeti CHaeti kareeN MaeN te jaana baRi door ni, Jithe mere haaniyaaN da Tur giya poor ni, Us piND da suneeNde raah maaRa, Ni peeraaN da paraaga bhun de. BhaTi vaaliye. ChaMbe diye Daaliye, Ni dukhaaN da paraaga bhun de. Meri vaari pahteyaaN di PaNd silli ho gayi, miTi di kaRaae teri Kaahnu pilli ho gayi, Tere sek nu ki vajeya dugaaRa, Ni peeraaN da paraaga bhun de. BhaTi vaaliye. ChaMbe diye Daaliye, Ni dukhaaN da paraaga bhun de. Lahp ku e chuNg meri Maenu pehlaaN Tor ni, Kache kache rakh na ni RoR thoRe hor ni, KaraaN minataaN muka de ni puaaRa, Ni peeraaN da paraaga bhun de. BhaTi vaaliye. ChaMbe diye Daaliye, Ni dukhaaN da paraaga bhun de. SauN gaeeyaaN havaavaaN ro ro Kar varlaap ni, TaareyaaN nu chaR geya MaTHa maTHa taap ni, JaNj saahvaaN di da rus giya laaRa, Ni peeraaN da paraaga bhun de. BhaTi vaaliye. ChaMbe diye Daaliye, Ni dukhaaN da paraaga bhun de. Taenu diyaaN haNjuaaN da bhaaRa, Ni peeRaaN da paraaga bhun de, BhaTi vaaliye.

The Pan Of Sorrows I will give you the grain of tears, Roast my sorrows in your pan, O, tender of the fire. Tender of the fire, branch of magnolia, Roast my sorrows in your pan. I am late already, The shadows are fading, The cattle have returned, From the forest. The birds have raised their clamor. Roast my sorrows in your pan, Tender of the fire. Hurry, be quick, I have far to go, To the place Where my companions have gone. I have heard the road to that town is difficult Roast my sorrows in your pan. Tender of the fire. When my turn comes, Your bale of kindling is damp. Why has your earthen pan Become flaccid? What has gone wrong with your fire? Roast my sorrows in your pan. Tender of the fire. Mine is just a handful of grains, Roast them, and let me go on my way, Don’t leave them raw, Roast them well. I beg you, bring an end to this wrangling, Roast my sorrows in your pan. Tender of the fire. The wind has dropped, Its mournful weeping ended. A sweet heat Is rising in the stars. My breaths are like a marriage procession Whose bridegroom is displeased. Roast my sorrows in your pan. O tender of the fire. Tender of the fire, branch of magnolia, Roast my sorrows in your pan.