Hupa Hupa !
A rice full of winnowing basket.
A Cowry of it. It is getting late.
A feast of gruel is written in our fate.
Thirst is written on our lips.
Mother that Babri Triesh. Mother that Babri Triesh
Thirsty I am , Mother thirsty I am , quench my thirst
Don’t know where the dusk will descend.
Don’t know what mountains to ascend.
Neither do we know what fierce Sun has in store for us.
Nor do we know how the dunes of desert will roar on us.
What if that dreaded army of Yazeed is waiting for us.
They may question us, interrogate us.
Just in case they tell us not to cry for help.
Die we may , thirst unquenched..
May be our heart beat is graphed.
May be it is interpreted too.
Our dreams revealed. May be arrested too.
Lest they show us oasis and diverge our path.
May be Euphrates is blocked and barricaded.
May be our breath is confiscated too.
May be our tents are burnt . Our caravan destroyed.
May be they carry a genocide. May be they destroy us.
May be they make us vanish, disappear and perish.
Burial without shrouds may be on cards.
The moment we breathe our last.
The moment we breathe our last.
Our eyes will still be looking only for you.
Our lips will murmur only one sentence. Mother!
Mother , that carton full of Babri Treish.
A drop , swig or slurp of Babri Treish.
Mauji Triesh ! Mauji Treish! Mauji Treish.
A rice full of winnowing basket.
A Cowry of it. It is getting late.
A feast of gruel is written in our fate.
Thirst is written on our lips.
Mother that Babri Triesh. Mother that Babri Triesh
Thirsty I am , Mother thirsty I am , quench my thirst
Don’t know where the dusk will descend.
Don’t know what mountains to ascend.
Neither do we know what fierce Sun has in store for us.
Nor do we know how the dunes of desert will roar on us.
What if that dreaded army of Yazeed is waiting for us.
They may question us, interrogate us.
Just in case they tell us not to cry for help.
Die we may , thirst unquenched..
May be our heart beat is graphed.
May be it is interpreted too.
Our dreams revealed. May be arrested too.
Lest they show us oasis and diverge our path.
May be Euphrates is blocked and barricaded.
May be our breath is confiscated too.
May be our tents are burnt . Our caravan destroyed.
May be they carry a genocide. May be they destroy us.
May be they make us vanish, disappear and perish.
Burial without shrouds may be on cards.
The moment we breathe our last.
The moment we breathe our last.
Our eyes will still be looking only for you.
Our lips will murmur only one sentence. Mother!
Mother , that carton full of Babri Treish.
A drop , swig or slurp of Babri Treish.
Mauji Triesh ! Mauji Treish! Mauji Treish.