341. Translation of Sad Songs of Rafi: Wah Re Zamaane...

Movie: GHAR KI IZZAT (1948)
Music: Pandit Gobindram
Lyrics: I.C. Kapoor.



Rafi Sahaab’s early nugget: Waah Re Zamaane....

Roman Transliteration/English Translation of the original Urdu/Hindi Lyrics:


Waah re zamaane, kyaa rangg dikhaaye,
FIE WORLD, WHAT FICKLENESS!

Waah re zamaane, kyaa rangg dikhaaye,
FIE WORLD, WHAT FICKLENESS!

Pal me.n ha.nsaaye, pal me.n rulaaye,
MAKING US LAUGH ONE MOMENT; THE OTHER MOMENT,MAKING US WEEP,

Kyaa rangg dikaaye,
WHAT FICKLENESS!

Waah re zamaane, kyaa rangg dikhaaye...
FIE WORLD, WHAT FICKLENESS!


Mohabbat ka nannaah, diyaa TimTimaayaa,
A LITTLE LAMP OF LOVE FLICKERED,

Pehle hee jho.nke ne, aakar bujhaayaa,
THE VERY FIRST GUST CAME, EXTINGUISHING IT,

Aa.nkho.n me.n taareekee dil me.n andheraa,
BLINDNESS IN THE EYES, DARKNESS IN THE HEART,

Aa.nkho.n me.n, taareekee dil me.n andheraa,
BLINDNESS IN THE EYES, DARKNESS IN THE HEART,

Pag pag Thokar khaaye
STUMBLING AT EVERY STEP,

Pag pag, Thokar khaaye,
STUMBLING AT EVERY STEP,

Kyaa ranggg dikhaaye,
WHAT FICKLENESS!

Waah re zamaane, kyaa rangg dikhaaye..
FIE WORLD, WHAT FICKLENESS!


Haatho.n kee me.nhdee ko dekhe suhaagan,
THE NEWLY WED LOOKS AT THE HENNA-ADORNED HANDS,

Haatho.n kee me.nhdee ko, dekhe suhaagan,
THE NEWLY WED LOOKS AT THE HENNA-ADORNED HANDS,

Aa.nkho.n men aa.nsoo, soona hai aangan,
TEARS IN THE EYES; DESERTED IS THE COURTYARD,

Aa.nkho.n men aa.nsoo, soona hai aangan,
TEARS IN THE EYES; DESERTED IS THE COURTYARD,

Khusheeyo.n ke din, toh beet chuke hai.n,
THE DAYS OF HAPPINESS ARE OVER,

Khusheeyo.n ke din, toh beet chuke hai.n
THE DAYS OF HAPPINESS ARE OVER,

Reh gaye haay, haay
BEWAILMENT REMAINS!

Kyaa rangg dikhaaye,
WHAT FICKLENESS!

Waah re zamaane, kyaa rang dikhaaye,
FIE WORLD, WHAT FICKLENESS!

Pal me.n hansaaye, pal men rulaaye
MAKING US LAUGH ONE MOMENT; THE OTHER MOMENT,MAKING US WEEP,

Kyaa ranggg dikhaaye,
WHAT FICKLENESS!

Waah re zamaane, kyaa rang dikhaaye,
FIE WORLD, WHAT FICKLENESS!

NASIR

We are all of us, in this world, more or less like St. January, whom the inhabitants of Naples worship one day, and pelt with baked apples the next.
- Madame Anne Sophie Swetchine (Soimonoff)