mavan te tiya ral bethhiya nee, maye koi kar diya galadiya
mavan te tiya ral bethhiya nee, maye koi kar diya galadiya
nee kanka lamiya tiya kyun jamiya nee maye
mandara je boleya aaj maf kare maye sathon hoya khatawan badiya
nee kanka lamiya tiya kyun jamiya nee maye

ho babul da saya ena veer tera sir pe ankhiya tak diyan raah
najare je aawe teree ambadi da jaya mere sa wich aawe sa
nee gad kaa lamiya tiya kyun jamiya nee maye

apne chubare te mai khela gitiya
apne chubare te mai khela gitiya
marda guandiya da munda sittiya
ambadi je takeya hoy ambadi je takeya te pan sutdu
val val kar chhadu meree guth nu
val val kar chhadu meree guth nu
apanee chubare te mai kheda gitiya
marda guandiyan da munda sittiyan hoy
ambadi je takeya hoy ambadi je takeya te pan sutdu
val val kar chhadu meree guth nu
val val kar chhadu meree guth nu
apanee chubare te mai kheda gitiya

mavan te tiya ral bethhiya, nee maye koi kar diya galadiya
mavan te tiya ral bethhiya, nee maye koi kar diya galadiya
nee kanka lamiya tiya kyun jamiya nee maye
mandara je boleya aaj maf kare maye sathon hoya khatawan badiya
nee kanka lamiya tiya kyun jamiya ni maye

Mothers and daughters, together they sat,
Mother, some secret has been spoken, a whispered spat.
Mothers and daughters, together they sat,
Mother, some secret has been spoken, a whispered spat.
My wheat, tall and swaying, why do these shoots now sprout?
If the temple bell tolls, Mother, forgive, we erred,
forgive the mistakes we brought about.
My wheat, tall and swaying, why do these shoots now sprout?

Oh, Father’s shadow, my brother’s grace, upon your head,
eyes that scan the path, ahead.
A glance, your mother's son, mine is left undone,
within this chest, a breath I dread.
My wheat, tall and swaying, why not, Mother, why?

Upon my rooftop, I played with stones,
upon my rooftop, I played alone.
A boy, from the town, whistling low, his call,
If your mother sees, if your mother sees, she will toss and fall,
She will mess with my braid, hair by hair,
She will mess with my braid, hair by hair.
Upon my rooftop, I played with stones,
A boy, from the town, whistling low, his call,
If your mother sees, if your mother sees, she will toss and fall,
She will mess with my braid, hair by hair,
She will mess with my braid, hair by hair.
Upon my rooftop, I played with stones.

Mothers and daughters, together they sat,
Mother, some secret has been spoken, a whispered spat.
Mothers and daughters, together they sat,
Mother, some secret has been spoken, a whispered spat.
My wheat, tall and swaying, why do these shoots now sprout?
If the temple bell tolls, Mother, forgive, we erred,
forgive the mistakes we brought about.
My wheat, tall and swaying, why do these shoots now sprout?