Translation by Dr. Sant Singh Khalsa
Whatever a heart truly does becomes the fruit it later tastes — its choices grow into its own harvest.
Grasping at what belongs to others only ties a person up in knots; the wanting is never filled.
A heart that forgets every gift it was given keeps circling the same restlessness, round and round.
And pride, in the end, cannot hold itself up — like leaves loosened from a branch, it simply settles back to the ground.
What you do grows into what you get back, and pride cannot hold itself up for long.
This pauri says the song's main idea once more, through strong pictures. The first line sums it up: javayhe karam kamaav-daa tavayhe fal-tay. The deeds you do become the fruit you taste. Think of planting a seed. What comes up is what you planted.
The verse then piles on frightening pictures of its time: chewing red-hot iron, a rope around the neck, being led away. Each one points to a plain truth underneath.
Grabbing what belongs to others, par mal hir-tay, ties a person in knots, and the wanting never fills up. Aakirat-ghan means forgetting the one who gave you everything. An ungrateful heart keeps circling the same restlessness, round and round.
And the gentlest picture is the last: jo jo kar-tay ahamay-o jharh Dhar-tee parh-tay. Those who puff themselves up fall to the ground, like loose leaves from a branch. Pride cannot carry its own weight. It settles back down by itself. It is like a law of nature, not a punishment.
Have you ever seen someone's pride quietly deflate all by itself, without anyone doing anything to them?
Translation by Dr. Sant Singh Khalsa·How we use AI