ab ke baras bhi rah gaye pyase
ab ke baras bhi rah gaye pyase
aag lage is saavan ko
aisi lagee biraha ki agni
aisi lagee biraha ki agni
jisne jalaaya tan man ko
ab ke baras bhi rah gaye pyase
aag lage is saavan ko

dhuniya se kya karte shikaayat
laaye na shikva lab tak hum
apne hi daman ki biraani
karte gawa na kab tak hum
phool na the to rakh liye kaante
phool na the to rakh liye kaante
aise sajaaya daman ko
aisi lagi biraha ki agni
jisne jalaya tan man ko
ab ke baras bhi rah gaye pyase
aag lage is saavan ko

kitni hi gum ki raat ho kaali
hoti hai aakhir uski sahen
nafarat se o dekne wale
iski bhi hai kuchh tujhko khabar
iski bhi hai kuchh tujhko khabar
pyaar mein hai taasir kuchh aisi
pyaar mein hai taasir kuchh aisi
dost bana de dushman ko
aisi lagi biraha ki agni
jisne jalaaya tan man ko
ab ke baras bhi rah gaye pyase
aag lage is saavan ko

labjho me hum dard samate
itni kahan thi apni majaal
dade sukun kyu dete humko
kisme nahin kuchh apna kamal
uski karo taariph ke jiske
uski karo taariph ke jiske
gum ne nikhaara hai phan ko
aisi lagi biraha ki agni
aisi lagi biraha ki agni
jisne jalaaya tan mann ko
ab ke baras bhi rah gaye pyase
aag lage is saavan ko

Another year, thirst remains,
Another year, we thirst in vain.
May fire consume this monsoon's grace,
Such is the fire of love's embrace,
That burns the body, mind, and soul,
Another year, we thirst and stroll,
May fire consume this monsoon's soul.

Why complain to the world's harsh sound?
No grievance leaves our lips unbound.
We orphaned the fabric of our own,
How long could we wander alone?
If no flowers bloomed, thorns we bore,
If no flowers bloomed, thorns we wore,
Thus we adorned our weary gown,
Such is the fire that burns us down,
That burns the body, mind, and soul,
Another year, we thirst and stroll,
May fire consume this monsoon's soul.

However dark the night of woe,
Its suffering will surely go.
You who gaze with hate, take heed,
Do you know this silent deed?
Do you know this silent deed?
Love's essence holds a secret art,
Love's essence plays a beating heart,
Turning foes to friends, so bold,
Such is the fire, a story told,
That burns the body, mind, and soul,
Another year, we thirst and stroll,
May fire consume this monsoon's soul.

We, in words, contain our ache,
Such skill, our spirit couldn't make.
Why should praise be granted to us?
Who has no skill, no inner fuss?
Praise the one whose art, so deep,
Praise the one whose art, to keep,
Refines the sorrow, makes it whole,
Such is the fire, takes its toll,
Such is the fire of love's embrace,
That burns the body, mind, and space,
Another year, we thirst in grace,
May fire consume this monsoon's place.