The yellow mustard is blooming in every field,
Mango buds are clicking open, other flowers too;
The koyal chirps from branch to branch,
And the maiden tries her make-up,
The gardener-girls have brought bouquets.
Colourful flowers of all kinds,
In hands everyone’s bringing;
But Aashiq-rung (the lover) , who had promised to come
To Nizamuddin’s house in spring,
Hasn’t turned up – its been years.
The yellow mustard is blooming in every field.