lahaur ke us pahle jile ke
dopargana me pahuche
resham gali ke, duje kunche ke
chauthe makan me pahunche
aur kahte hain jisko duja mulkush
pakistan me pahunche
likhta hun khat main, hindostaa se
pahlu e husna me pahunchi o husna

main to hun baitha
o husna meri yaado purani me khoya
main to hun baitha
o husna meri yaado purani me khoya
pal pal ko gintaa pal pal ko chunta
biti kahani me khoya
patte jab jhadte hindustan me
yaade tumhari ye bole
hota ujala hindustan me
baate tumhari ye bole
o husna mere ye to bata do
hota hai aisa kya us gulista me
rehti ho nanhi kabutar si gum tum
jahan o husna
patte kya jhadte hain pakistan
vaise hi jaise jhadte yaha, o husna
hota ujaala kya vaisa hi hai
jaisa hota hindustan me ha
o husna

wo heero ke ranjhe, nagme mujhko
ab tak aa aake sataye
woh bulle shah ki takriro ke
jhine jhine saaye
wo id ki idi lambi namaze
seyvaiya ki jhallar
wo diwali ke deeye sang me
baisaakhi ke badal
holi kenu lakdi me jalni
sang sang aanch lagai
lohdi ka wo shuva
jisme dhadkhan hai sulgaai
o husna meri ye to bata do
lohdi ka dhuva
kya abhi nikalta hai
jaisa nilkalta tha us daur me
waha, o husna

Arrived within the whispers of Lahore,
In the first district, the second domain.
Through silken lanes, to a hidden door,
The fourth house, where memories remain.

And they call it "Other Land," this realm,
Pakistan, my destination's hold.
I write this letter, a love to overwhelm,
To India's soul, a story to be told.
Oh, Husna, my Husna, within your grace, I'm bound.

Lost within my memories, I sit,
Oh Husna, in whispers of times gone by.
Each moment I count, each fragment I knit,
Lost in a past, where dreams never die.

When leaves descend in Hindustan's embrace,
Your memories sing, a tender tune.
When light breaks forth in time and space,
Your words echo softly, beneath the moon.
Oh, Husna, my Husna, tell me true,
What blooms within that distant place?
Do you flutter there, a lost dove anew?
Where do you reside, my Husna?

Do leaves fall in Pakistan's sway,
As they fall here, in shades of grey?
Does the light still hold the same soft ray,
As it does in India, come what may?
Oh, Husna, my Husna, tell me this today.

Those diamonds of Ranjha, their songs of fire,
Still haunt me now, with echoes deep.
The faint shadows of Bulleh Shah's desire,
His teachings whisper, secrets to keep.

The Eid's long prayers, the sweet vermicelli,
The Diwali's lamps, a festive gleam.
The Baisakhi's clouds, a joyful spree,
The Holi's pyre, a burning dream.

Lohri's smoke, where hearts take flight,
And embers dance, in the fading light.
Oh, Husna, my Husna, tell me, is it so?
Does Lohri's smoke still rise and flow,
As it did then, in that bygone age?
There, oh, Husna, upon life's stage.