heer aakhdi jogiya jhuth bole
re kaun roothde yaar manaam da aye
ha aisa koi ni miliya main dhundh thaki
ho ki jeda gaya nu mod le aunda aye
gaya nu mod le aunda aye

The Heera sighs, "False the yogi speaks,"
Whispering of a friend’s returning grace.
I’ve searched, weary, where the sun still streaks,
For one to turn the absent face.
To bring back the vanished face.