My lips shone with the reflection of the patient sun
Is varee (this time) again, as if possessed, I wrote all night
The sentences were untied on the black wall like filaments of fire
The liquid gold of my verses, I drank it like a bloody amrit (nectar)

I asked no lover for aagiaa (permission) to shine
Passion was my adhiaapak (teacher) for an hour
Before I bathed in the ocean of darkness
But poetry was my azaadee laee (struggle for independence)

Baitho je (sit down) I’ll tell you a story
The story of a bird that fell in love with the thorns of roses
The men chased him to the asylum of a woman’s hand
That woman was me, the bird was my poetry

Sit on the temple steps, I’ll tell you my story
I loved a Punjabee madly, his blood runs through my veins,

I renounce the viaah (marriage) I have united with a tale, a hope
Poetry is my master, my storm,
I will be faithful to it until I cut down every flower of ink
I will stand on the promontory of dreams that will never be written

And I’ll dip my thin fingers in the ink of life,
I will pooreeaan (succeeding) to blacken the most beautiful pages
Sahelee (friend) I am azadee (free), poetry has delivered me from the danger
I write standing in the storm, the birds sing, the night is the color of mahindee (henna)

Baitho je (sit down) I will tell you a story
The story of a bird that fell in love with the thorns of roses
The men chased him to the asylum of a woman’s hand
That woman was me, the bird was my poetry

Sit on the church steps, I’ll tell you my story
I loved a Punjabee madly, his blood runs through my veins,