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||