Mazaa - Future Bass Mix

What kind of treatment is this from you, my dark-complexioned beloved?

What kind of treatment is this from you, my dark-complexioned beloved?

Why do you treat these delicate roses as if they were mere stones?

There is one like me, who worships you as a living God.

And then there is you, who won't even acknowledge me as a human being.

There is one like me, who worships you as a living God.

And then there is you, who won't even acknowledge me as a human being.

Love is a curse, yet love is [Pak: pure/sacred].

There is no answer or match to the enigma of love.

When love reaches its absolute peak and takes over,

Even [Laila-Majnu: the legendary star-crossed lovers of Arabic folklore] turn to dust.

It’s the same age-old tradition and ritual of love,

Where the king [Ranjha: the legendary folk hero] dies, and so dies his queen.

Love is like a thorn piercing the foot of a [Pir: a spiritual saint or Sufi master].

One cannot tell if it is a blessing or a sinister curse.

When love strikes, it strikes with such a fatal blow,

That the very stars come crashing down upon one's head.

Love is like death walking and breathing beside you.

Love has claimed the lives of countless poets.

Oh, love has decimated so much of this world.

It spares no one—neither the great legends nor the innocent children.

There is one like me, who worships you as a living God.

And then there is you, who won't even acknowledge me as a human being.

There is one like me, who worships you as a living God.

And then there is you, who won't even acknowledge me as a human being.

You tore the flesh from my heart and devoured it.

After eating your fill, you threw the scraps to the dogs.

What a havoc you’ve wreaked; I’ve lost all my senses.

After eating your fill, you threw the scraps to the dogs.

You plunged daggers into my chest, and the daggers were razor-sharp.

I spent my evenings weeping and my nights screaming in agony.

Now, if you ever dare to wander back into my street,

I will serve you pain as food and offer you my tears to drink.

There is one like me, who worships you as a living God.

And then there is you, who won't even acknowledge me as a human being.

There is one like me, who worships you as a living God.

And then there is you, who won't even acknowledge me as a human being.

My liver is wounded by the blow of our separation.

Separation from you is nothing less than a death sentence.

Why should I lie? Even the water might catch fire from my truth.

I am constantly praying for your very demise.

Oh, your love is like a [Tawaif: a courtesan/niche performer], and a lowly one at that.

The kind that dances shamelessly on the streets, yes, exactly like that.

When your funeral bier finally departs from this world,

No one will even show up to offer their shoulder to carry you.

There is one like me, who worships you as a living God.

And then there is you, who won't even acknowledge me as a human being.

There is one like me, who worships you as a living God.

And then there is you, who won't even acknowledge me as a human being.