dil waale bose udaao maddham si hansi girao
buth kyun bane pade ho rindh sa mahek jaao
kaath me gaad do killi maachis par ghis do tilli
yu to pheeki thi hawa maine kaifi kar daali
paunchh ghaflat ki laali bajao zor se taali

gam ko de dena gaali bajaao zor se taali
taali ke baad taali bajaao zor se taali

hai saat makaan sargam ke inme rehte sufi hai
mere yaar hai, dildaar hai
rooh ki tafri, zam-zam ki gaar hai
har dhun ko ishqe waali phasle baati hai
hotho se sehla-sehla nazini ki baaliya kaati hai

ha bulla ke harfo par marne wali bawli matwali
bajao zor se taali
ha Shehad ki shehar waali bajao zor se taali
taali ke baad taali bajao zor se taali

Soch khud ka hunar dil se nikalti ye daad hai
Soch khud ka hunar dil se nikalti ye daad hai
ye qawalli wali baat hai purani dilli ki baraat hai

gila nahi jo mila nahi kaaba tarif ka dikha nahi
gila nahi jo mila nahi kaaba tarif ka dikha nahi
bulbul tha maajhi mera kaala majhi
nahi ban paaya main phir se haaji

bula lo khuda, bula lo qaazi
nikaah ke liye khudai ko kar lunga main raazi
main mehfil ka mawaali bajao zor se taali

paunchh ghaflat ki laali bajaao zor se taali
ha taali ke baad taali bajao zor se taali

Kiss away the hearts, let a soft laughter fall,
Why stand like statues? Bloom like the wine's call.
Drive a peg in wood, strike the match's spark,
The air felt pale, but I made it a mark.
Wipe the blush of heedlessness, clap with a roar,
Give grief a curse, and clap evermore.
Clap after clap, clap with your soul's core.

Seven houses of the scale, where Sufis reside,
My friends, my beloved, deep inside.
A soul's delight, a cave of Zamzam's grace,
Dividing seasons of love in every space.
Caressing lips, shearing the earrings of the fair,
The mad, the intoxicated, dying for Bullah's prayer,
Clap with a roar, let the honeyed city share.
Clap after clap, clap with your soul's core.

Reflecting on your skill, praise erupts from the heart,
Reflecting on your skill, praise erupts from the heart.
This is a Qawwali's art, an old Delhi's start,
No complaint if it's not found, if Kaaba's praise isn't shown,
No complaint if it's not found, if Kaaba's praise isn't shown,
The nightingale was my boatman, a dark sailor I've known,
I couldn't become a pilgrim again, though I've grown.

Call upon God, call the Qazi near,
For marriage, I'll make the divine world clear.
I am the rogue of the gathering, clap with a roar,
Wipe the blush of heedlessness, clap evermore,
Clap after clap, clap with your soul's core.