The darker side in me is very dark, The lighter side in me is all light, The thirst for the unknown is somehow known, I am love I say, yet my feet are chained with the remainders of the past, of the cruelties of the world, which still at times i try to wonder y i faced.
Bulla Ki Jaana Maen Kaun Says Bulla,
who knows who I am!
I am not in the mosque of the believer,
Nor in false rites.
I am not in the pure or the impure.
Neither Moses nor Pharaoh.
Says Bulla, who knows who I am!
I am not in the vedas or holy books,
Not in drug or wine.
Not in the drunkards wasted intoxication,
Not in wakefulness or sleep.
Says Bulla, who knows who I am!
I am not in sorrow nor in joy,
Neither in clean nor unclean.
I am not water, I am not earth,
I am not fire, I am not air.
Says Bulla, who knows who I am!
I am not from Arabia or Lahore,
Nor from India or Nagaur.
Neither a hindu or muslim from Peshawar,
Nor do I live in Nadaun.
Says Bulla, who knows who I am!
I cannot be unearthed in the mysteries of religion.
I was not born of Adam and Eve.
I am not the name I assume.
I am not in stillness, not in movement.
Finally, I only know myself.
I cannot know any other.
Who could be wiser than I?
Bulla asks, who then, stands here?
Says Bulla, who knows who I am!
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