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Koshur Music

An Introduction to Spoken Kashmiri



tsolhama roshe roshe

    You stole away with furtive gait,
    O lover of flowers, my sweetheart !

    Stay, O stay, my only love !
    O wizard, why must you leave me thus ?
    Tell me how I shall survive.

    Since I saw you in my prime,
    And stood dazed, bewitched, distracted,
    I've been weeping out my heart.

    I'm waiting for you on the mountain,
    Dropping scalding tears of blood.
    Can you escape the guilt, my love ?

    Love brought me only infamy.
    I became the talk of the town,
    With rivals slinging mud at me.

    A mynah without her mate,
    All night till dawn I cry,
    For you have broken my heart.

    'Come, friend, we are late for the fields !'
    My life has ground to a halt,
    As he has left me to feed on taunts !

    'O friend, let's go to the woods !'
    I wonder who poisoned his mind.
    Shall I ever see him again ?

    Come, love, and see my heart,
    My bosom consumed with fire.
    Will you come only when I'm gone ?

    There's none who'll carry my message and plaints
    0, why won't you steal in, my love ?
    I've laid a bed of flowers for you !

    Vivacious soul, who is free from bounds,
    What net have you caught me in ?
    You've cut my heart in twain !

    You left me lonesome, with the gift
    Of mortal pangs of separation.
    I'll have to put on saffron robes!

    I'll call you from the mountain.
    Turn back, O prince of men,
    And remember your plighted troth !

    I will not cease complaining.
    Your diverse pleas will fail,
    For I will always claim you as mine.

    Caught fast in the web of destiny,
    I left home at the middle of the night,
    Singing a serenade to my Naagiray.

    You left me on the roadside,
    Forlorn, with a wounded heart.
    To whom can I reveal my pain ?

    When slumber had stolen over me,
    I found I had come to slave for you -
    A yearning that fills all my nights !

    I yearn to see you on the balcony,
    Arrayed in eternal splendour,
    With myself, a devotee, offering my life.

    Mahjoor is seeking his beloved,
    That wizard without faith.
    How long shall he have to yearn !



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