O Sohni don't go tonight!
The night is still. The cruel moon has hidden her face behind the numbers of the calendar. A glimmering cloak of stars stand wary in her stead. The treacherous waters of mighty Chenab beckons yet she swims not. Sohni stands shivering at the riverbank, her trusty earthen pitcher upon her hips.
There! There stands her love, the cowherd! Mahiwal beckons from across the river as the burning lamp sways in his hand. How can she not go, when the calling is of love!
The world stands still. Sohni dips one foot into the cold water. A wind rises. Her dress embraces her flesh and bones as it drags her behind.
O Sohni don't go tonight!
Her family is forgotten. Her husband is not truly loved. How can he be? She has but one heart and it beats not sans Mahiwal!
Look how the waves rise! They hiss and crash at the foolish girl's feet. But her Mahiwal calls out to her! How can she not go?
The swaying, glistening weeds beneath her feet weep upon her soles.
O Sohni don't go tonight!
Surely, the river will be compassionate. For the sake of love tonight, must the faithless tide be merciful!
The whim of Chenab engulfs the reckless girl as his waves rejoice. Clay of her pot bleeds into the hissing swirl of water. Her hands slip and crumble as the pot, and her world, dissolves into the waves, through her fingers.
Tonight, a beloved embraces his lover's corpse
For the pitcher was but baked.
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