The soil is in ferment, O friend
Behold the diversity.
The soil is the horse, so is the rider
The soil chases the soil, and we hear the clanging of soil
The soil kills the soil, with weapons of the soil.
That soil with more on it, is arrogance
The soil is the garden so is its beauty
The soil admires the soil in all its wondorous forms
After the circle of life is done it returns to the soil
Answer the riddle O Bulleh, and take this burden off my head.
At this one point, all talk end,
Hold tight to this point, forget your calculations
Leave the miserable state of unbelief,
Do not torment yourself with the fear of death and hell,
For these are imaginary fears.
Only into such a house will the truth enter.
At this one point, all talk ends.
Says Bullha, I am in dire distress,
O please find a remedy.
How can I endure such pain?
I long for you, this is so, what can I do?
When love revealed its mystery to me,
The parroted words vanished.
Inside and out, I was cleansed.
I saw my beloved wherever I looked
Learn no more knowledge, O friend!
This knowledge will be of no avail to you
You need to read only “Alif”
You read and read, and pile your books into a heap
The Quran and other books are lying all around you
By reading and reading you become Mullah and Qazi
But God is pleased without their knowledge
Your avarice is whetted every day
you always aim at personal gain