Baansuriya, baansuriya, Mohan bajaey
Jaisey jadu jagaey,
Mora jiya lubhaey Shyam.

Mohan, Shyam (Lord Krishna in different names) plays the flute and awakens magic that is so enthralling for my heart.

Na mein Mira, na mein Radha,
Na mein Brij ki gopi bala,
Saanvariya, kaisey miley,
Dukh kaisey taley,
Mora jiya lubhaey Shyam.

I am neither Mira or Radha. I am not Brij’s (a place) damsel. How will my Lord (Krishna) come to me, how will my sorrow go? Shyam entices my heart.

Rauoon tau kajra dhul dhul jaye,
Souoon tau gajra khul khul jaye,
Baanvariya kar key gaye,
Kal kaisey padre,
Mora jiya jalaey Shyam.

When I cry, (out of longing for Shyam) the khol in my eyes is washed away. When I sleep (in restlessness for Shyam), the flowers in my hair get tosselled. I am like a crazy person, not knowing how my tomorrow will be. Shyam is burning my heart.