aawara hun haan awaara hun
zamin pe chalte jhalakte behate
dariya ki dharaa hun
haan awaara hun, haan awaara hun
yaha ka waha ka kahi ka nahi hu
dishaon ka mara hun
haan awaara hun, haan awaara hun

kabhi luhit kinare se mississippi
hoke volga ki baat suni
ottawa hoke austria hote
paris ki raat kyuni
maine ellora ke saare rang
chicago me jaa uraye
aur ghalib ke sher bokhara ke
minaron pe gungunaye
mark twain ke samadhi pe
gorky ki haal kahi
raston ki galiyon ke, logo ka pyara hun
haan awaara hun, haan awaara hun
zamin pe chalte jhalakte behate
dariya ki dharaa hun
haan awaara hun, haan awaara hun

jaha kahi dekhe zindegi ke rang
waha thahar gaya
awargi me awargi ko
manjil bana liya
maine dekhi hain kahin
gagan chumti unchi ataari
aur khwab chanti dekhi hain wahi
zindegi bichaari
Kahi dekhi hain kabhi
choukhaton pe jhoolti fulowarli
murjhayi kahi khil na saki
ek kali bechari
maine dekhe hain zameen pe
kayi bujhte huwe suraj
jalta hai jo akash me
wo raat ka tara hun
haan awaara hun, haan awaara hun
yaha ka waha ka kahi ka nahi hu
dishaon ka mara hun
haan awaara hun, haan awaara hun

A wanderer, yes, a wanderer I am,
Upon the earth, reflecting, flowing,
A current of the river's stream.
Yes, a wanderer, yes, a wanderer I am,
Belonging nowhere, neither here nor there,
By the directions, I am torn.
Yes, a wanderer, yes, a wanderer I am.

From the banks of Luit, to the Mississippi's call,
Heard the tales of Volga's flow,
Through Ottawa, through Austria's grace,
And Paris nights, I'd know.
I scattered the colors of Ellora's art,
In Chicago, I unfurled them free,
And sang Ghalib's verses, atop the minarets,
In Bukhara, for all to see.
At Mark Twain's grave, I spoke,
Of Gorky's stories, a whispered plea,
Of roads and lanes, adored by all,
Yes, a wanderer, yes, a wanderer I am,
Upon the earth, reflecting, flowing,
A current of the river's stream.
Yes, a wanderer, yes, a wanderer I am.

Wherever I found life's vibrant hues,
There, I chose to stay,
In this wandering, in this wandering,
A destination, I did lay.
I've seen soaring towers, kissing the sky,
And dreams that climbed so high,
Poor life, it seems, it had to try.
And seen, at times, flowers on doorsteps hung,
Wilted, unable to bloom,
A poor, frail bud, its fate unsung.
I've watched the setting suns descend,
Upon the earth, their fading gleam,
And I am the star of night,
Burning bright, in the celestial dream.
Yes, a wanderer, yes, a wanderer I am,
Upon the earth, reflecting, flowing,
A current of the river's stream.
Yes, a wanderer, yes, a wanderer I am.