Warriors of Faith

Ik Ardas

 An Ardas of Thirsty-Soul

ਵਡਹੰਸੁ ਮਹਲਾ 1 ਘਰੁ 2 ॥
ਮੋਰੀ ਰੁਣ ਝੁਣ ਲਾਇਆ ਭੈਣੇ ਸਾਵਣੁ ਆਇਆ ॥
ਤੇਰੇ ਮੁੰਧ ਕਟਾਰੇ ਜੇਵਡਾ ਤਿਨਿ ਲੋਭੀ ਲੋਭ ਲੁਭਾਇਆ ॥
ਤੇਰੇ ਦਰਸਨ ਵਿਟਹੁ ਖੰਨੀਐ ਵੰਞਾ ਤੇਰੇ ਨਾਮ ਵਿਟਹੁ ਕੁਰਬਾਣੋ ॥
ਜਾ ਤੂ ਤਾ ਮੈ ਮਾਣੁ ਕੀਆ ਹੈ ਤੁਧੁ ਬਿਨੁ ਕੇਹਾ ਮੇਰਾ ਮਾਣੋ ॥
ਚੂੜਾ ਭੰਨੁ ਪਲੰਘ ਸਿਉ ਮੁੰਧੇ ਸਣੁ ਬਾਹੀ ਸਣੁ ਬਾਹਾ ॥
ਏਤੇ ਵੇਸ ਕਰੇਦੀਏ ਮੁੰਧੇ ਸਹੁ ਰਾਤੋ ਅਵਰਾਹਾ ॥
ਨਾ ਮਨੀਆਰੁ ਨ ਚੂੜੀਆ ਨਾ ਸੇ ਵੰਗੁੜੀਆਹਾ ॥
ਜੋ ਸਹ ਕੰਠਿ ਨ ਲਗੀਆ ਜਲਨੁ ਸਿ ਬਾਹੜੀਆਹਾ ॥
ਸਭਿ ਸਹੀਆ ਸਹੁ ਰਾਵਣਿ ਗਈਆ ਹਉ ਦਾਧੀ ਕੈ ਦਰਿ ਜਾਵਾ ॥
ਅੰਮਾਲੀ ਹਉ ਖਰੀ ਸੁਚਜੀ ਤੈ ਸਹ ਏਕਿ ਨ ਭਾਵਾ ॥
ਮਾਠਿ ਗੁੰਦਾਈ ਪਟੀਆ ਭਰੀਐ ਮਾਗ ਸੰਧੂਰੇ ॥
ਅਗੈ ਗਈ ਨ ਮੰਨੀਆ ਮਰਉ ਵਿਸੂਰਿ ਵਿਸੂਰੇ ॥
ਮੈ ਰੋਵੰਦੀ ਸਭੁ ਜਗੁ ਰੁਨਾ ਰੁੰਨੜੇ ਵਣਹੁ ਪੰਖੇਰੂ ॥
ਇਕੁ ਨ ਰੁਨਾ ਮੇਰੇ ਤਨ ਕਾ ਬਿਰਹਾ ਜਿਨਿ ਹਉ ਪਿਰਹੁ ਵਿਛੋੜੀ ॥
ਸੁਪਨੈ ਆਇਆ ਭੀ ਗਇਆ ਮੈ ਜਲੁ ਭਰਿਆ ਰੋਇ ॥
ਆਇ ਨ ਸਕਾ ਤੁਝ ਕਨਿ ਪਿਆਰੇ ਭੇਜਿ ਨ ਸਕਾ ਕੋਇ ॥
ਆਉ ਸਭਾਗੀ ਨੀਦੜੀਏ ਮਤੁ ਸਹੁ ਦੇਖਾ ਸੋਇ ॥
ਤੈ ਸਾਹਿਬ ਕੀ ਬਾਤ ਜਿ ਆਖੈ ਕਹੁ ਨਾਨਕ ਕਿਆ ਦੀਜੈ ॥
ਸੀਸੁ ਵਢੇ ਕਰਿ ਬੈਸਣੁ ਦੀਜੈ ਵਿਣੁ ਸਿਰ ਸੇਵ ਕਰੀਜੈ ॥
ਕਿਉ ਨ ਮਰੀਜੈ ਜੀਅੜਾ ਨ ਦੀਜੈ ਜਾ ਸਹੁ ਭਇਆ ਵਿਡਾਣਾ ॥1॥3॥

Wadahans, First Mehl, Second House:
The peacocks are singing so sweetly, O sister; the rainy season of Saawan has come.
Your beauteous eyes are like a string of charms, fascinating and enticing the soul-bride.
I would cut myself into pieces for the Blessed Vision of Your Darshan; I am a sacrifice to Your Name.
I take pride in You; without You, what could I be proud of?
So smash your bracelets along with your bed, O soul-bride, and break your arms, along with the arms of your couch.
In spite of all the decorations which you have made, O soul-bride, your Husband Lord is enjoying someone else.
You don't have the bracelets of gold, nor the good crystal jewelry; you haven't dealt with the true jeweller.
Those arms, which do not embrace the neck of the Husband Lord, burn in anguish.
All my companions have gone to enjoy their Husband Lord; which door should I, the wretched one, go to?
O friend, I may look very attractive, but I am not pleasing to my Husband Lord at all.
I have woven my hair into lovely braids, and saturated their partings with vermillion;
but when I go before Him, I am not accepted, and I die, suffering in anguish.
I weep; the whole world weeps; even the birds of the forest weep with me.
The only thing which doesn't weep is my body's sense of separateness, which has separated me from my Lord.
In a dream, He came, and went away again; I cried so many tears.
I can't come to You, O my Beloved, and I can't send anyone to You.
Come to me, O blessed sleep - perhaps I will see my Husband Lord again.
One who brings me a message from my Lord and Master - says Nanak, what shall I give to Him?
Cutting off my head, I give it to Him to sit upon; without my head, I shall still serve Him.
Why haven't I died? Why hasn't my life just ended? My Husband Lord has become a stranger to me. ||1||3||

Posted by Kamaljeet Singh Shaheedsar on Saturday, November 5. 2011 in Spirituality

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