‘What should we ask of the wanderers…’ — an interpretarion of Shiv Batalvi

What do you ask of the way of the wanderers,

those who passed us by when we met at the turn of the river’s bank,

what do ask of those brothers?

who separated from us when we wept

Wept for the pain inflicted by the passing of the age of love.

The age passes as as as a mourning,

A facade of colourful pictures,

That promise an eternal love,

But remain as images.

Fate, then, she was my rival in love,

How could I ever have escape her

I was never born with in the age of courage-

Where I could reject my life and embrace my love.

Now listen to my lament,

Name me a betrayer of my faith,

Name my longing my pilgrimage,

Name sorrow, my god.