naqi aayi hai, mujhe bata
arziyon me, dil ke khane bhi
hote hai kya
khamakha fir lineno me kyu khade
waise bhi kaha dil ijajat mangte

wallah re rasul ye bhugol
mede sukun re bhugol
mastare junun re bhugol
maathe laga khun re bhugol

tum bina baat ke
aadhe to nahi
mujhe pura hone de aaj hi
laado bhari aawaz si
ujda ke kho na jaye mera
wallah re rasul ye bhugol
mede sukun re bhugol
mastare junun re bhugol
maathe laga khun re bhugol
wallah re rasul ye bhugol
mede sukun re bhugol
mastare junun re bhugol
maathe laga khun re bhugol

Tell me, have they arrived,
these requests?
Do hearts, too,
have their own rooms of want?
Then why this pointless queue?
Hearts, after all, do not beg permission.

Oh, the geography, Messenger,
of my peace, my geography.
Of fevered madness, my geography.
Of blood upon my brow, my geography.

Without you,
I am but half a thing.
Let me be whole, today,
like a voice, heavy with love.
Lest what is mine, be lost in ruin.
Oh, the geography, Messenger,
of my peace, my geography.
Of fevered madness, my geography.
Of blood upon my brow, my geography.
Oh, the geography, Messenger,
of my peace, my geography.
Of fevered madness, my geography.
Of blood upon my brow, my geography.