Some Hindvi Dohas (couplets) of Khusrau

Many qawwals begin their qawwali with one of these popular dohas of Amir Khusrau.
(Read some of these in Devnagri script.)



Khusrau raen suhaag ki, jaagi pi ke sung,
Tun mero mun pi-u ko, dovu bhaye ek rung.

Khusrau (the bride) spends the eve of her wedding
Awake with her beloved, (in such a way that)
The body belongs to her, but heart to the beloved,
The two become one.



Bae gaye baalam, bae gaye nadia kinaar,
Aapay paar utar gaye, hum to rahay ehi paar.

He has crossed, the beloved has crossed,
Has reached the other side, on his own.
With me, left here alone.



Khusrau aesee peet kar, jaisay hindu joye,
Poot karaye kaarnay, jal jal koyla hoye.

Khusrau, what you need to do is,
To concentrate hard, like a Hindu does –
He even burns himself to offer to god.



Khusrau darya prem ka, ulti wa ki dhaar,
Jo utra so doob gaya, jo dooba so paar.

Oh Khusrau, the river of love
Runs in strange directions.
One who jumps into it drowns,
And one who drowns, gets across.



Bhai ray malla jo hum kon paar utaar,
Haath ka devongi mandra, gal ka devun haar.

Oh, brother oarsman, if you let me cross the river,
I have for you my gold bangle, my necklace.



Sej wo sooni dekh ke rovun main din raen,
Piya piya main karat hoon pehron, pal bhar sukh na chaen.

Day and night, I see an empty bed, and cry
Calling for my beloved, I remain restless for ever.



Kheer pakayi jatan say, aur charkha diya jalaa,
Aya kutta khagaya, tu baithi dhool bajaa.

You prepared the kheer (rice pudding) with much hardword,
And lit up the lamp.
There came the dog, and ate it all,
Now sit and play the drum.



Apni chhab banaikay, jo main pi kay paas gayi
Chhab dekhi jab piyu ki so apni bhool gayi.

With my beautiful face all adorned, when I went to the beloved,
I saw his face, and forgot all about my own beauty.



Khusrau baazi prem ki main khelun pi ke sung,
Jeet gayi to piya moray, haari, pi kay sung.

I, Khusrau, play the game of love with my beloved,
If I win, the beloved’s mine, defeated, I’m beloved’s.



Gori sovay sej par, mukh par daaray kes,
Chal Khusrau ghar aapnay, saanjh bhayee chahu des.

The fair maiden rests on the wreath (of roses),
Her tresses covering her face,
Let us, Oh Khusrau go back now,
The dark dusk settles in four corners.