Shiv Kumar Batalvi's - "Udharaa Geet - A Borrowed Song" (Presentation - Desh Ratna)

Udhaara Geet Saahnu Prabh ji, Ik adh geet udhaara hor diyo. SaaDi bujhdi jaaNdi ahg, ANgaara hor diyo. MaeN niki umare Saara darad haNDHa baeTHa, SaaDi joban ruht lai Darad kuaara hor diyo. Geet diyo mere joban varga, Saula Toone-haara. Din chaRde di laali da jyuN Bhar sarvar lishkaara. Rukh vihoone thal vich jeekan Pehla saNjh da taara. SaNjh hoi saaDe vi thal theeN Ik adh taara hor diyo, JaaN saahnu vi laali vaakan Bhar sarvar vich khor diyo. Prabh ji, din bin meet na beete, Geet bina na beete Audh haNDHaani har koi jaane Darad naseebi seete. Har pahtan de paani Prabh ji KihRe mirgaaN peete? SaaDe vi pahtana de paani ] Anpeete hi roR diyo, JaaN jo geet likhaae saathoN O vi prabhu ji moR diyo. Prabh ji, roop na kade salaaheeye JihRa ahg toN oona. Us akh di sifat na kareeye Jis da haNjh aloona. Darad –vichuna geet na kaheeye Bol na mahik vihoona. Bol je saaDa mahik vihoona TaaN Dali toN toR diyo, JaaN saahnu saaDe joban varga Geet udhaara hor diyo. MaeN nihke umare Saara darad haNDHa baeTHa, SaaDi joban ruht lai Darad kuaara hor diyo.

Udharaa Geet - A Borrowed Song Give me, O Lord A few more songs. My fire is dying, Give me a spark. At a very young age I exhausted every sorrow. For my youth Give me a fresh pain. Give me a song, like youth itself, Beautiful, magical. Like the redness of a rising day That sparkles in a brimming lake. Like the first star of the evening That shines in a treeless desert. Night is approaching my desert, Give me a star or two, Or let me sink, like the evening redness, Into the brimming lake. Lord, life is unbearable without a companion, Unbearable without a song. We all know that life has to be lived, That pain has been sewn into it. Do the deer drink the water At every shore? Let the water at my shore Be washed away, undrunk. Or take back the songs That you let me write. Lord, we should never extol beauty Which is empty of fire, Nor praise those eyes Whose tears lack salt. We should not sing a song bereft of pain, Or write a word devoid of fragrance. If my words are without fragrance Tear them from the branch, Or give me another song, Like youth itself. At a very young age I exhausted every sorrow. For my youth Give me a fresh pain.