FATEHNAMA
Gurdwara Sahib El Sobrante
Bows and Arrows, Swords and Spears,
That the brave in battles wear.
In their holy name we swear,
To tell the Truth sans any fear.
In the holy name of the brave,
Who take up arms in dangers grave.
And also by the steeds they ride,
Of fleeting feet and galloping stride.
By whose grace art thou a king,
And thy writ sweepth everything.
His very grace didist us endow,
To shield the faithful and the low.
When loot and plunder is thy aim,
To cheat and fraud is in thy vein,
We art there to save and shield,
Truth and Faith art we wield.
Resorting ever to hoax and fraud,
Thou betray the trust of God;
Yet thou claimeth to be a king.
Do thou really deserve such a thing?
Thy rosary, O’ king, is but a snare,
To entrap the people unaware,
When thou maketh pretend to pray,
Wistfully, thou watch thy prey.
The mal-treatment of thy father,
And the blood of thy brothers,
Besmear,O’ king, all thy face,
A slur, thou art, on thy race.
On the blood and bones of thy own,
The sort of Kingdom thou have grown,
Grand though it may be in looks,
A false structure, it really is.
Through His grace, of such a grain,
We have showered now a rain,
With the water of the Steel,
And His help who is ‘All-Steel’.
These holy showers, from the face,
Of any accursed and evil place,
Wash away the filth of oppression,
Injustice, tyranny and coercion.
Thy southern campaigns and their devastation,
Thy Mewar efforts and their frustration,
Art but only straws in the wind,
A warning to thee, o’ king, to mend.
Thou, now, dareth to cast thy gaze,
Towards Punjab and its fair face,
With covetous and avaricious eyes,
thy thirst for blood seems to rise.
Punjab, for thee, ‘Id be made so hot,
And all thy efforts brought to naught,
A drop of water, a moment of rest,
In vain, for them, ‘Id thou make a quest
Like a cunning and crafty jackal,
To treacherous tactics thou didst fall,
And thus killed two of my sons,
But, don’t be deceived thou have won.
Like a lion, bold and brave,
We yet live ever crave,
To it to see that thou must pay,
For what thou did in a heinous way.
On thy lips, and the name of God!
For much too long thou played this fraud.
Well do we know designs it conceal.
The ‘god’ thou ‘serve’ thy actions reveal
No more, in us, thy words inspire,
The sort of faith thou doth desire,
We’ll hence in arms correspond,
The like of thee, to them, respond.
Thou, like a wily wolf, may be.
In courage lacking, in cunning aglee,
My men art more than a match for thee,
Like lions art they bold and free.
If thou, in reason, thy faith repose,
We’ll suggest the way to compose,
Our dispute through mutual trust and talk,
A worth way, for thee, to walk.
But, if thou choose the path of fray,
Let facing a-distance our forces array,
Standing each two furlong a-spaced,
In such an order, the field be place.
Amidst such an arrangement of the field,
Both of us, our arms shall wield,
We’ll then challenge thee in thy den,
Riding to thee with two of my men.
Thou have so far enjoyed the fruits,
Of labours rendered by thy recruits,
Dare thee come unto our sight,
We’ll teach thee how to fight.
Armed with sword and the shield,
thou must personally take the field,
It is cowardly to fire humanity,
For thy evil aims and vanity.
FATEHNAMA