Listening to this today today, and working on a translation:
Lyrics
Tere ishq ne dera mere andar keeta
Bhar ke zehar pyala, main taan aape peeta
Jhabde wahundi tabiba, nahi te main mar gayaan
Tere ishq nachaaiyaan, kar ke thaiyaa thaiyaa
Chup gaye ve sooraj, bahar reh gayi laali
Ve main sadqe hova, devein murjey vikhali
Peera main bhul gayaan, tere naal na gaiyaan
Tere ishq nachaaiyaan, kar ke thaiyaa thaiyaa
Ais ishq de kolon mainu hatak na maaye
Laahu jaandey berrey, kehrram mor laya
Meri akal jun bhulli, naal mhaniyaan dey gaiyaan
Tere ishq nachaaiyaan, kar ke thaiyaa thaiyaa
Ais ishq di jhangi vich mor bulenda
Sanu qibla ton kaaba, sohna yaar disenda
Saanu ghayal karke, phir khabar na laaiyaan
Tere ishq nachaaiyaan, kar ke thaiyaa thaiyaa
Bullah Shah, na aounda mainu inayat de buhe
Jisne mainu awaye, chole saave te suhe
Jaan main maari aye, addi mil paya hai vahaiya
Tere ishq nachaaiyaan, kar ke thaiyaa thaiyaa
Translation:
Your love has taken up residence within me,
I drank the poisoned chalice with my own hands.
O wandering healer, if you do not come, I will perish—
Your love has spun me into a frenzied dance.
The sun has slipped away, leaving only its crimson glow.
I would give my life for one more glimpse of you.
My wounds were forgotten, but I did not follow when you called—
Your love has spun me into a frenzied dance.
Do not try to turn me away from this path of love.
Can you halt the boats that drift upon the tides?
Foolish, I cast aside my wisdom and followed the boatman—
Your love has spun me into a frenzied dance.
A peacock cries in the wild grove of passion,
For me, my beloved is both Qibla and Kaaba.
You wounded me and never turned back to see—
Your love has spun me into a frenzied dance.
Bulleh Shah lingers at the door of Inayat,
Who clothed me in robes of green and red.
I leaped, but he caught me before I could fly—
Your love has spun me into a frenzied dance.
Poem -
Counting Notes at Baba Bulleh Shah’s
The singer at Baba Bulleh Shah’s shrine
counts notes in one hand,
sings of love and longing with the other.
It is a delicate balancing act,
like patting your head while rubbing your stomach,
or reading a love letter
while checking the price of wheat.
I wonder if the words—
Tere Ishq nachaaiyaan, kar ke thaiyaa thaiyaa—
are so deeply etched in his heart
that they spill out effortlessly,
the way breath continues
even when we forget to inhale,
or if they are nothing more
than a familiar refrain,
a worn path in the brain,
something to be sung
while the real work of life
is done in the margins.
And at the edge of the night sky,
no stars appear—
or perhaps I cannot count
while desire still flickers.
Singing oneness!
