pyaas tujhe to, vishwa tapaakar
purna nikaloongaa haalaa,
ek paav se saaki bankar
nachoongaa lekar pyaalaa;
jivan ki madhutaa to tere
oopar kab kaa vaar chukaa,
aaj nichaavar kar doongaa mai
tujhpar jag ki madhushala.

bhavuktaa angoor lataa se
kheech kalpanaa ki haalaa,
kavi saaki bankar aayaa hai
bharkar kavitaa kaa pyaalaa;
kbhi na kan-bhar khaali hogaa
laakh piyen, do laakh piyen!
pathakgan hain peenewale,
pustak meri madhushala.

madiraalaya jaane ko ghar se
chaltaa hai peenewaalaa,
‘kis path par jaaoon ?’ asamanjas
me hai wah bholaa bhaalaa;
alag alag path batlaate sab
par mai yah batlaataa hun –
‘raah pakad tu ek chalaa chal,
paa jayegaa madhushala.’

chalne hi chalne me kitna
jivan haay, bita dala!
‘door abhi hai’, par, kahta hai
har path batlaane waalaa;
himmat hai na badhu aage ko,
saahas hai a phiru peeche;
kinkartavyavimoodh mujhe kar
door khadhee hai madhushala.

mukh se tu avirat kahtaa jaa
madhu, madira, maadak haalaa,
haathon se anubhav kartaa jaa
ek lalit kalpit pyaalaa,
dhyaan kiye jaa man me sumadhur
sukhkar, sundar saaki kaa;
aur badhaa chal, pathik na tujhko
door lagegi madhushala.

madira peene ki abhilaashaa
hi ban jaaye jab haalaa,
adharon ki aaturtaa me hi
jab aabhaasit ho pyaalaa,
bane dhyaan hi karte-karte
jab saaki saakaar, sakhe,
rahe na haalaa, pyaalaa, saaki,
tujhe milegi madhushala.

haathon me aane se pahle
naaz dikhaayegi pyaalaa,
adharon par aane se pahle
adaa dikhaayegi haalaa,
bahutere inkaar karega
saaki aane se pahle;
pathik, na ghabraa jaanaa, pahle
maan karegi madhushla.

laal suraa ki dhaar lapat-si
kah na ise denaa jwaalaa,
phenil madiraa hai, mat isko
kah denaa ur kaa chaalaa,
dard nashaa hai is madiraa kaa,
vigatsmritiyaan saaki hain;
peeda me aanand jise ho,
aaye meri madhushala.

laalaayit adhron se jisne,
haay, nahin choomi haalaa,
harsh-vikampit kar se jisne,
haa, na chuaa madhu kaa pyaalaa,
haat pakad lajjit saaki kaa
paas nahin jisne kheechaa,
vyarth sukhaa daali jeevan ki
usne madhumaya madhushala.

nahin jaantaa kaun, manuj
aayaa bankar peenewaalaa,
kaun aparichit us saaki se,
jisne doodh pilaa paalaa;
jeevan paakar maanav peekar
mast rahe, is kaaran hi,
jag me aakar sabse pahle
paayi usne madhushala.

surya bane madhu ka vikretaa,
sindhu bane ghat, jal, haalaa,
baadal ban-ban aaye saaki,
bhoomi bane madhu kaa pyaalaa,
jhadi lagaakar barse madiraa
rimjhim, rimjhim, rimjhim kar,
beli, vitap, trin ban mai peeyun,
varshaa ritu ho madhushala.

adhron par ho koi bhi ras
jihwa par lagti haalaa,
bhaajan ho koi haathon mein
lagtaa rakkhaa hai pyaalaa,
har soorat saaki ki soorat
mein parivartit ho jaati,
aankhon ke aage ho kuch bhi,
aankhon me hai madhushala.

saaki ban aati hai praatah
jab arunaa ushaa baalaa,
taarak-mani-mandit chaadar de
mol dharaa leti haalaa,
aganit kar-kirno se jisko
pi, khag paagal ho gaate;
prati prabhaat me purna prakriti me
mukhrit hoti madhushala.

saaki bankar murli aayee
saat liye kar me pyaalaa,
jinme wah chalkaati laayee
adhar-sudha-ras ki haalaa;
yogiraaj kar sangat uski
natwar naagar kahlaaye;
dekho kaiso-kaiso ko hai
naach nachaati madhushala.

vaadak ban madhu ka vikretaa
laayaa sur-sumadhur-haalaa,
raaginiyaa ban saaki aayee
bharkar taaron ka pyaalaa,
vikretaa ke sanketon par
daurdh layon, aalaapon me,
paan karaati shrotaagan ko;
jhankrit veenaa madhushala.

chitrakaar ban saaki aataa
lekar tuli kaa pyaalaa,
jisme bharkar paan karaataa
wah bahu ras-rangi haalaa,
man ke chitra jise pi-pikar
rang-birange ho jaate,
chitrapati par naach rahi hai
ek manohar madhushala.

him shreni angoor lataa-si
phaili, him jal hai haalaa,
chanchal nadiyaan saaki bankar,
bharkar lahron ka pyaalaa,
komal koor-karon me apne
chalkaati nishidin chalti,
pikar khet khade lahraate,
bhaarat paavan madhushala.

aaj milaa avsar, tab phir kyon
mai na chakhun ji-bhar haalaa,
aaj milaa maukaa, tab phir kyon
dhal na lu ji-bhar pyaalaa,
chedchaad apne saaki se
aaj na kyon ji-bhar kar lu,
ek baar hi to milni hai
jivan ki yah madhushala.

do din hi mujhe madhu pilaakar
oob uthi saakibaalaa,
bharkar ab khiskaa deti hai
wah mere aage pyaalaa,
naaz, adaa, andaazon se ab
haai pilaanaa door hua,
ab to kar deti hai kewal
pharz adaayi madhushala.

chote se jivan me kitna
pyaar karun, pi lun haalaa,
aane ke hi saath jagat me
kahlaayaa ‘jaanewaalaa’,
swagat ke hi saath vidaa ki
hoti dekhi taiyaari,
band lagi hone khulte hi
meri jivan madhushala.

kyaa pinaa, nirdwanda na jab tak
dhaalaa pyaalon par pyaalaa,
kya jinaa, nishchinta na jab tak
saath rahe saakibaalaa,
khone kaa bhay, haaye, lagaa hai
paane ke sukh ke peeche,
milne kaa aanand na deti
milkar ke bhi madhushala.

mujhe pilaane ko laaye ho
itni thodi-si haalaa !
mujhe dikhaane ko laaye ho
ek yahi chichlaa pyaalaa !
itni pi jine se achchaa
saagar ki le pyaas maru,
sindhu-trishaa di kisne rachkar
bindu-baraabar madhushala.

ksheen, kshudra, kshanbhangur, durbal
maanav mitti kaa pyaalaa,
bhari hui hai jiske andar
katu-madhu jivan ki haalaa,
mrityu bani hai nirdaya saaki
apne shat-shat kar phailaa,
kaal prabal hai peenewaalaa,
sansriti hai yah madhushala.

yam aayegaa saaki bankar
saath liye kaali haalaa,
pi na hosh me phir aayegaa
sura-visudh yah matwaalaa,
yah antim behoshi, antim saaki,
antim pyaalaa hai,
pathik pyaar se pinaa isko
phir na milegi madhushala.

shant saki ho ab tak, saaki,
pikar kis ur ki jwaalaa,
‘aur, aur’ ki ratan lagaataa
jaataa har pinewaalaa,
kitni ichaayen har jaanewaalaa
chod yahaan jaataa !
kitne armaanon ki bankar
kabr khadi hai madhushala.

jo haalaa mai chaah rahaa thaa,
wah na mili mujhko haalaa,
jo pyaalaa mai maang rahaa thaa,
wah na milaa mujhko pyaalaa,
jis saaki ke peeche mai thaa
diwaanaa, na milaa saaki,
jiske peeche thaa mai paagal,
haa na mili wah madhushala.

dekh rahaa hoon apne aage
kab se maanik – si haalaa,
dekh rahaa hoon apne aage
kab se kanchan kaa pyaalaa,
‘bas ab paayaa!’ – kah-kah kab se
daud rahaa iske peeche,
kintu rahi hai door kshitij-si
mujhse meri madhushala.

haathon me aane-aane me,
haay, phisal jaataa pyaalaa,
adhron par aane-aane me,
haay, dhulak jaati haalaa,
duniyaawaalo, aakar meri
kismat ki khoobi dekho,
rah-rah jaati hai bas mujhko
milte-milte madhushala.

praapya nahin hai to, ho jaati
lupt nahin phir kyon haalaa,
praapya nahin hai to, ho jaataa
lupt nahin phir kyon pyaalaa,
door na itni himmat haaru,
paas na itni paa jaayu,
vyarth mujhe daudati maru me
mrigjal bankar madhushala.

madiraalaya me kab se baitha,
pi na sakaa ab tak haalaa,
yatna sahit bhartaa hun, koi
kintu ulat detaa pyaalaa,
manav-bal ke aage nirbal
bhaagya, suna vidyaalaya me,
‘bhaagya prabal, manav nirbal’
ka paat padhaati madhushala.

us pyaale se pyaar mujhe jo
door hatheli se pyaalaa,
us haalaa se chaav mujhe jo
door adhar se hai haalaa,
pyaar nahin paa jaane me hai,
paane ke armaano me !
paa jaataa tab, haay, na itni
pyaari lagti madhushala.

mad, madiraa, madhu, haalaa sun-sun
kar hi jab hun matwaalaa,
kya gati hogi adhron ke jab
neeche aayegaa pyaalaa,
saaki, mere paas na aanaa
mai paagal ho jaaungaa,
pyaasaa hi mai mast, mubaarak
ho tumko hi madhushala.

kya mujhko aavashyaktaa hai
saaki se maangu haalaa,
kya mujhko aavashyaktaa hai
saaki se chaahun pyaalaa,
pikar madiraa mast hua to
pyaar kiya kyaa madiraa se!
mai to paagal ho uthtaa hun
sun leta yadi madhushala.

ek samay santushta bahut thaa
paa mai thodi-si haalaa,
bholaa-sa tha mera saaki,
chotaa-sa mera pyaalaa,
chote-se is jag ki mere
swarg balaaye letaa tha,
vistrit jag me, haay, gayi kho
meri nanhi madhushala!

mai madiraalaya ke andar hun,
mere haathon me pyaalaa,
pyaale me madiraalaya bimbit
karnewaali hai haalaa,
is udhed-bun me hi mera
saaraa jivan beet gayaa –
mai madhushala ke andar ya
mere andar madhushala.

kise nahin peene se naataa,
kise nahin bhaataa pyaalaa,
is jagati ke madiraalaya me
tarah-tarah ki hai haalaa,
apni-apni ikchaa ke
anusaar sabhi pi madmaate,
ek sabhi kaa madak saaki,
ek sabhi ki madhushala.

wah haalaa, kar shaant sake jo
mere antar ki jwaalaa,
jisme mai bimbit-pratibimbit
pratipal, wah meraa pyaalaa,
madhushala wah nahin jahan par
madiraa bechi jaati hai,
bhet jahan masti ki milti
meri to wah madhushala.

matwaalaapan haalaa se le
maine taj di hai haalaa,
paagalpan lekar pyaale se,
maine tyaag diyaa pyaalaa,
saaki se mil, saaki me mil
apnaapan mai bhool gayaa,
mil madhushala ki madhutaa me
bhool gayaa mai madhushala.

kahaan gayaa wah swargik saaki,
kahaan gayee surbhit haalaa,
kahaan gayaa swapnil madiraalaya,
kahaan gayaa swarnim pyaalaa!
pinewaalo ne madiraa kaa
mulya, haay, kab pahachaanaa?
phoot chukaa jab madhu ka pyaalaa,
toot chuki jab madhushala.

apne yug me sabko anupam
gyaat hui apni haalaa,
apne yug me sabko adbhut
gyaat hua apnaa pyaalaa,
phir bhi wridhon se jab puchaa
ek yahi uttar paayaa –
ab na rahe wah peenewale,
ab na rahi wah madhushala !

kitne marm jataa jaati hai
baar-baar aakar haalaa,
kitne bhed bataa jaataa hai
baar-baar aakar pyaalaa,
kitne arthon ko sanketon
se batlaa jaati saaki,
phir bhi peenewaalon ko hai
ek paheli madhushaalaa.

jitni dil ki gahraayi ho
utnaa gahraa hai pyaalaa,
jitni man ki maadaktaa ho
utni maadak hai haalaa,
jitni ur ki bhaavuktaa ho
utnaa sundar saaki hai
jitnaa hi jo rasik, use hai
utni rasmay madhushala.

meri haalaa me sabne
paayi apni-apni haalaa,
mere pyaale me sabne
paayaa apnaa-apnaa pyaalaa,
mere saaki me sabne apnaa
pyaaraa saaki dekhaa,
jiski jaisi ruchi thi usne
waisi dekhi madhushala.

yah madiraalaya ke aansu hai,
nahin-nahin maadak haalaa,
yah madiraalaya ki aankhe hai,
nahin-nahin madhu kaa pyaalaa,
kisi samay ki sukhadsmriti hai
saaki bankar naach rahi,
nahin-nahin kavi kaa hridayaangan,
yah virhaakul madhushaalaa.

kuchal hasratein kitni apni,
haay, banaa paayaa haalaa,
kitne armaano ko karke
khaak banaa paayaa pyaalaa!
pi peenewale chal denge,
haay, na koi jaanegaa,
kitne man ke mahal dahe tab
khadi hui yah madhushala.

vishwa tumhaare vishmaya jeevan
me laa paayegi haalaa
yadi thodi-si bhi yah meri
madmaati saakibaalaa,
shunya tumhaari ghadiyaa kuch bhi
yadi yah gunjit kar paayee,
janm safal samjhegi jag me
apnaa meri madhushala.

bade-bade naazo se maine
paali hai saakibaalaa,
kalit kalpanaa kaa hi isne
sadaa uthaayaa hai pyaalaa,
maan-dulaaron se hi rakhnaa
is meri sukumaari ko,
vishwa, tumhaare haathon me ab
saup rahaa hun madhushala.

Hark! The wine gurgles and splashes as it falls from the goblet.
Hark! It sounds like the tinkling of bells on the feet of an intoxicated girl.
We have reached there, a few steps are we from the tavern,
Hark! Hear the laughter of the drinkers, as the fragrance of the tavern wafts through the air.

Call it not lava, though it flows red, like a tongue of flame.
Call it not the blistered heart, for it is only foaming wine.
Lost memories serve the wine, that intoxicates with pain.
If you find happiness in suffering, come to my tavern.

He who has burnt all scriptures with his inner fire,
Has broken temples, mosques and churches with carefree abandon,
And has cut the nooses of pandits, mullahs and priests —
Only he is welcome in my tavern.

Alas, he that with eager lips, has not kissed this wine,
Alas, he that trembling with joy, has not touched a brimming goblet,
He that has not drawn close the coy wine-maiden by her hand,
Has wasted this honey-filled tavern of Life.

My beloved wine-maiden seems a priest; her wine as pure as the Ganga’s waters.
With unbroken pace, she rotates the rosary of wine glasses.
“Drink more! Drink more!” she intones in prayer.
I am Shiva incarnate and this tavern is my temple.

Only once every year, the fires of Holi are lit.
Only once is the game played and are garlands of lamps lit.
But, O, those who are lost in the world, come and see the tavern any day,
The tavern celebrates a Holi, every morning and a Diwali every night.

Whatever the taste on my lips, it tastes like wine.
Whatever the vessel in my hands, it feels like a goblet.
Every face dissolves into the features of my wine-maiden,
And whatever be in front of my eyes, they fill only with visions of the tavern.

Ah, Beautiful, your lovely face is like a crystal bowl,
Whose precious gem is your beauty, sparkling like sweet, intoxicating wine.
I am the wine-maiden and I am the guest.
Where sit we together, there indeed is the tavern.

A mere two days she served me but the young maiden is sulking now.
She fills my goblet and passes it curtly to me.
Her coquetry and charms are lost arts;
All the tavern wishes now is to fulfil its obligations.

Life is short. How much love can I give and how much can I drink?
They say, “He departs,” at the very moment that he is born.
While he is being welcomed, I have seen his farewell being prepared.
They started closing the shutters of the tavern, as soon as they were raised.

O maiden! Which burning heart has been pacified by drinking?
Every drinker repeats only one chant, “More! More!”
Seeking satisfaction, he leaves behind so many desires.
Of how many such hopes is this tavern a tomb?

Yama will come as the wine-maiden and bring his black wine,
Drink, and know no more consciousness, O carefree one.
This is the ultimate trance, the ultimate wine-maiden and the ultimate goblet.
O traveller, drink judiciously, for you will never find the tavern again.

Each day, O companion, spills more wine from my life.
Each day, O fortunate one, this goblet, my body, is burnt.
Each day, O lovely woman, this wine-maiden, my youth, distances itself from me.
Each day, O beauty, this tavern, my Life, is drying up.

When from the earthen jar of my body, the wine of life is emptied,
When the final wine-maiden comes with her bowl of poison,
When my hand forgets the touch of the goblet, and my lips the taste of wine,
Whisper in my ears, “the wine, the goblet, the tavern!”

Touch not my lips with tulasi, but with the goblet, when I die.
Touch not my tongue with the Ganga’s waters, but with wine, when I die.
When you bear my corpse, pallbearers, remember this!
Call not the name of God, but call to the truth that is the tavern.

Weep over my corpse, if you can weep tears of wine.
Sigh dejectedly for me, if you are intoxicated and carefree.
Bear me on your shoulders, if you stumble drunkenly along.
Cremate me on that land, where there once was a tavern.

Pour on my ashes, not ghee, but wine.
Tie to a vine of grapes, not a waterpot, but a wine-goblet.
And when, my darling, you must call guests for the ritual feast,
Do this – call those who will drink and have the tavern opened for them.

If anyone asks my name, say it was, “The Drunkard”.
My work? I drank and passed the goblet to everyone.
O Beloved, if they ask my caste, say only that I was mad.
Say my religion worshipped goblets and then chant with your rosary, “The tavern, the tavern!”

O son, raise not water at my final rites, but wine in your palms.
And sit somewhere, having filled the Ganga with wine.
If you can wet the earth somewhere, my soul will be satisfied.
Offer your libations to your ancestral spirits by reading repeatedly, “The tavern, the tavern.”