achara me phulava lai ke, aye re ham tohare dvar
are ho hamari araji na sun le, araji pe kar le na bichar
hamase ruth le bidhata hamar, kahe ruth le bidhata hamar

bade hi jatan se ham ne puja ka thal sajaya
prit ki bati jodi manava ka diyara jalaya
hamare man mohan ko par nahi bhaya
hamare man mohan ko par nahi bhaya
are ho rah gai puja adhuri, mandir se diya re nikal
hamase ruth le bidhata hamar, kahe ruth le bidhata hamar

sone ki kalam se hamari qisamat likhi jo hoti
mol laga ke lete ham bhi man chaha moti
ek prem divani hay aise to na roti
ek prem divani hay aise to na roti
are ho itana duhkh to na hota, pani me jo dete hame dar
hamase ruth le bidhata hamar, kahe ruth le bidhata hamar
achara me phulava lai ke, aye re ham tohare dvar
are ho hamari araji na sun le, araji pe kar le na bichar
hamase ruth le bidhata hamar, hamase ruth le bidhata hamar

With blossoms cradled in my sari's fold, I came to your door,
Oh, will you not heed my plea, consider it no more?
My maker is angered, why does He scorn?
Why does my maker scorn?

With utmost care I adorned the worship plate,
Lit the lamp of love, fueled by my heart's state,
Yet my heart's beloved, He did not await,
My heart's beloved, He did not await.
Oh, the ritual remains incomplete, the lamp cast from the shrine,
My maker is angered, why does He scorn?
Why does my maker scorn?

If fate's script were penned with golden quill,
I'd bid for pearls, my heart's desire to fulfill,
A lover's heart would not with such grief be still,
A lover's heart would not with such grief be still.
Oh, such sorrow would not sting, had I been cast in the tide,
My maker is angered, why does He scorn?
Why does my maker scorn?
With blossoms cradled in my sari's fold, I came to your door,
Oh, will you not heed my plea, consider it no more?
My maker is angered, why does He scorn,
My maker is angered, why does He scorn?