Do not touch the safflower with your hands; its color will fade away, my dear. ||1||Pause||

First, the bride herself is weak, and then, her Husband Lord's Order is hard to bear.

Milk does not return to the breast; it will not be collected again. ||2||

Says Fareed, O my companions, when our Husband Lord calls,

the soul departs, sad at heart, and this body returns to dust. ||3||2||

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