When some one dies, we say we will never forget, but aren't we lying... because sorrow doesnot stay forever, even life thrives on the grave... (flowers grow on it) and we walk forward....
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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