kabhi socha hai ke baasuri ke sur mein
itna dard kyun hai
kabhi socha hai ke sukhe is sharir mein
itna ehsaas kyun hai
kabhi chhuti thi ye daali apne patton se
kabhi tuti thi ye daali ye apni shaakhon se
phir aaj bhi hawa ke jhonke se
suro par ye machalati kyun hai
kabhi socha hai ke baasuri ke sur mein
itna dard kyun hai

hontho se laga lo to ye chehak uthti hai
ungaliyon ke chhune se ye behak uthti hai
hontho se laga lo to ye chehak uthti hai
ungaliyon ke chhune se ye behak uthti hai
par jakhm se uske aaj bhi nikalti sirf tarz kyun hai
kabhi socha hai ke baasuri ke sur mein
itna dard kyun hai

apno ne hi chalaayi thi kulhaadi is par
phir usi ne chhedi thi raag dhaani is par
apno ne hi chalaayi thi kulhaadi is par
phir usi ne chhedi thi raag dhaani is par
apna hi tha ye insaan phir bhi itna
khudgarj kyun hai

kabhi socha hai ke baasuri ke sur mein
itna dard kyun hai
kabhi socha hai ke sukhe is sharir mein
itna ehsaas kyun hai
kabhi chhuti thi ye daali apne patton se
kabhi tuti thi ye daali ye apni shaakhon se
phir aaj bhi hawa ke jhonke se
suro par ye machalati kyun hai
kabhi socha hai ke baasuri ke sur mein
itna dard kyun hai

Have you pondered the flute's lament,
Why such sorrow in its breath, its bent?
Have you felt the ache within this frame,
Why such feeling, a burning flame?
Once severed from its leafy hold,
Once broken, a story told,
Yet still it dances, in the breeze's sway,
Why does it tremble, even today?
Have you pondered the flute's lament,
Why such sorrow in its breath, its bent?

Held to the lips, it bursts to song,
Touched by fingers, where it belongs,
Held to the lips, it bursts to song,
Touched by fingers, where it belongs,
But from its wounds, a melody alone,
Why is its music so forlorn?
Have you pondered the flute's lament,
Why such sorrow in its breath, its bent?

Axe of the kin, that struck it down,
Then from the same hand, a joyful sound,
Axe of the kin, that struck it down,
Then from the same hand, a joyful sound,
Though kin it was, this human art,
Why such a selfish, broken heart?

Have you pondered the flute's lament,
Why such sorrow in its breath, its bent?
Have you felt the ache within this frame,
Why such feeling, a burning flame?
Once severed from its leafy hold,
Once broken, a story told,
Yet still it dances, in the breeze's sway,
Why does it tremble, even today?
Have you pondered the flute's lament,
Why such sorrow in its breath, its bent?