Mitti Ke Bete Lyrics (English Translation) – Border 2

Part 1: The Unflinching Spirit
How carefree and fearless were their hearts,
How carefree and fearless were their hearts.
They could laugh in the very face of death.
They who carried their homeland in their hearts,
Also carried their shrouds upon their heads.

Refrain of Remembrance
When we raise our tricolour flag,
They return to us, a sudden, aching memory.
Those sons of the soil, who never came back.
Those who never returned, were the soil’s own sons.
Those beloved children of their mothers, who never came back.
Those who never returned, were the soil’s own sons.
Sons of this very land.
Oh, sons of the soil.
Oh, sons of the soil, sons of this very land.

Part 2: Sacrifice and Legacy
For which our Sardar once swung from the gallows,
We never let a speck of dust touch that spotless tricolour.
Upon that spotless tricolour, upon that spotless flag.

Only you know your pain, father,
Only you know your pain, for I am mad with a sorrowful joy.
The one in whose lap I played, I now leave upon her shoulder.

When our beloved ones march to the border,
They return to us, a sudden, aching memory.
Those sons of the soil, who never came back.

Part 3: The Unbearable Loss
Oh, fate, who knew you would deceive comrades so?
The sun that was our own, would set in such a manner.
It would set like this, it would set just so.

Without you, even we—from the border,
Will return, half-souls, incomplete.
Into your funeral pyre, gently,
A part of us will also burn away.

When comrades meet in a final embrace,
They return to us, a sudden, aching memory.
Those sons of the soil, who never came back.

Part 4: The Eternal Wait
My pain never sleeps, not even in rest.
This exile of waiting never truly ends.
The lamps at the threshold burn on and on,
For some Ram never came home.
Some Ram never came home.
Some Ram never came home.

Fill a cup in my name,
And drink it years from now, father.
For I will not remain.
You must live my youth for me.

Final Oath
When we sing our anthem, “Jana Gana Mana,”
They return to us, a sudden, aching memory.
Those sons of the soil, who never came back.
Those who never returned, were the soil’s own sons.
Those beloved children of their mothers, who never came back.
Those who never returned, were the soil’s own sons, sons of this very land.