chulle aug na ghade de wich
chulle aug na ghade de wich pani
o chhadya di jun buri
oye rabba oye rabba
rabba saaddi oye rabba
rabba saddi vi bana de koi rani
ve chhadya di jind buri
laralappa laralappa layi rakhda
aditappa aditappa layi rakhda

kam kar karke jaddo vi ghar aaida
mar mar funka chulhe vich thak jaida
roti kachchi-gilli paidi ae khani
roti kachchi-gilli paidi ae khani
oye rabba oye rabba
rabba saddi vi bana de koi rani
ke chhadya di jun buri
o chhadya di jun buri

dassiye kahani kinve chhadya de dil di
sanu taa gaanwad raato aag vi na mildi
dassiye kahani kinve chhadya de dil di
ke sanu taa gaanwad raato aag vi na mildi
sade lad vi tu lade koi rani
ke chhadya di jun buri
je chhadde di maa mar jawe
o kalla baitha sog manawe
koi janani dardi ode ghar pitta vi na aawe

dassiye kahani kinve chhadya de dil di
ke sanu taa gaanwad raato aag vi na mildi
sade lad vi lawa de kanji kani
o chhadya di jind buri oye rabba oye rabba
laralappa laralappa layi rakhda
aditappa aditappa layi rakhda

ikko ik voti rabba chhadya nu mangda
sanu na khyal rabba gore- kale ranga da
ikko ik ikko ik ikko ik ikko ik
sareya waste ikko chahe navi hove chahe ho purani
o chhadya di jun buri
rabba saddi vi bana de koi rani
laralappa laralappa layi rakhda
aditappa aditappa layi rakhda

No fire in the hearth's embrace,
Nor water in the earthen space.
The life of the widowed, a shadowed plight,
Oh, God, oh, God, make us a queen of light.
The life of the widowed, a shadowed fight,
Lara-lappa, lara-lappa, the world's refrain,
Adhi-tappa, adhi-tappa, a weary pain.

When we return from labor's keep,
The hearth’s breath wearily we sweep,
And the bread, half-baked, wet and cold,
Must be swallowed, a story untold.
Oh, God, oh, God, make us a queen of gold.
For the widowed, life is a shadowed plight.
The life of the widowed, a shadowed fight.

How can one tell of a widower's heart?
Even fire at night, we can't impart.
How can one tell of a widower's heart?
Even fire at night, we can't impart.
Grant us love, a queen to start.
For the widowed, life is a shadowed plight.
If the widow's mother is dead.
He sits alone with grief spread.
No woman dares to his door tread.

How can one tell of a widower's heart?
Even fire at night, we can't impart.
Grant us love, a queen to start.
The life of the widowed, a shadowed fight,
Lara-lappa, lara-lappa, the world's refrain,
Adhi-tappa, adhi-tappa, a weary pain.

One wife, just one, oh God, we crave,
No care for color, the young or grave.
One wife, just one, just one we plead,
New or old, for our every need.
For the widowed, life is a shadowed plight.
Oh, God, oh, God, make us a queen of light.
Lara-lappa, lara-lappa, the world's refrain,
Adhi-tappa, adhi-tappa, a weary pain.