تلے گنگ دیاں بھیڈاں

The sheep of Tala Gang

Jump over the sandstone rocks,

At the sight of the spring grass.

They say,

‘Our milk is full of cream,

Our wool is sold abroad’ 

For the steeds of Islamabad,

No fodder is befitting

Sparks fly from their hoofs,

How they glide, all abreast