aaj miya ji ko chad jaye bukhar to bada maja aaye
to bada maja aaye, to bada maja aaye
aaj miya ji ko chad jaye bukhar to bada maja aaye
to bada maja aaye, to bada maja aaye
suni jaye jo apni pukar
suni jaye jo apni pukar to bada maja aaye
to bada maja aaye, to bada maja aaye
aaj miya ji ko chad jaye bukhar to bada maja aaye
to bada maja aaye, to bada maja aaye

mai takhtposh par baithu
mai takhtposh par baithu
aur sabko sabak padhau
aur sabko sabak padhau
jo bhule koi ek bar to jute char lagau
phir kan pakad ke chhod ke aau gaav ke paar
to bada maja aaye, to bada maja aaye
to bada maja aaye
aaj miya ji ko chad jaye bukhar to bada maja aaye
to bada maja aaye, to bada maja aaye

pattra likhan waliya, re koi likkh ishk di gall
mere dil wich balan mataabiya, chal taana baaj de vall
butaaniya baniyane teriya haye haye
ve mai baithi mirja mal, mai te mirja pingte
wich kudti di khall, chhall bute den saheliya haye haye
diba ik duje de wall
ho meri chhut gayi ping halaariya haye haye
nache saab na paayi gall, jaddaiya meriya beliya o

If the Master succumbs to fever today, ah, what delight it brings,
What delight, what utter delight!
If the Master succumbs to fever today, ah, what delight it brings,
What delight, what utter delight!
If my cries are finally heard,
If my cries are finally heard, ah, what delight it brings,
What delight, what utter delight!
If the Master succumbs to fever today, ah, what delight it brings,
What delight, what utter delight!

I shall sit upon the throne,
I shall sit upon the throne,
And teach lessons to all,
And teach lessons to all.
Should anyone falter, I'll deliver four lashes,
Then, holding their ears, I'll cast them beyond the village walls,
Ah, what delight it brings,
What delight, what utter delight!
If the Master succumbs to fever today, ah, what delight it brings,
What delight, what utter delight!

O, scribe of the tablets, write of love's tale,
My heart ablaze with the tales of anguish, let the gossips come.
My tender branches, alas, alas!
I, the Mirzā's beloved, I swing in the dance,
Within the folds of my tunic, the saplings bloom, my friends mourn, alas, alas!
Whispers from one another,
Alas, my swinging is lost, alas, alas!
The dance of the beloved is lost, my companions lament.