kahi ek maasum naazuk si ladaki
bahut khubasurat magar saavali si
bahut khubasurat
mujhe apane kvaabo ki baaho me paakar
kabhi nid me muskuraati to hogi
usi nid me kasamasaa-kasamasaakar
sarahane se takiye giraati to hogi
kahi ek maasum naazuk si ladaki

vahi kvaab din ke mudero pe aake
use man hi man me lubhaate to hoge
kayi saaz sine ki khaamoshiyo me
meri yaad me jhanajhanaate to hoge
vo besaakhta dhime-dhime suro me
meri dhun me kuchh gunagunaati to hogi
kahi ek maasum naazuk si ladaki

chalo khat likhe ji me aata to hoga
magar ugaliya kanp-kanpaati to hogi
kalam haath se chhut jaata to hoga
umage kalam phir uthaati to hogi
mera naam apni kitaabo pe likhakar
vo daato me ungali dabaati to hogi
kahi ek maasum naazuk si ladaki

zubaan se kabhi uf nikalati to hogi
badan dhime-dhime sulagata to hoga
kahi ke kahi paav padate to hoge
zami par dupatta latakta to hoga
kabhi subah ko shaam kahati to hogi
kabhi raat ko din bataati to hogi
kahi ek maasum naazuk si ladaki
bahut khubasurat magar saavali si
bahut khubasurat

A girl, fragile and innocent, somewhere,
So beautiful, yet touched by dusk's soft hand,
So beautiful,
Finding me embraced within her dreams,
Perhaps she smiles in slumber's gentle hold,
And stirs within that sleep, a hidden gleam,
Perhaps she tosses pillows, uncontrolled,
A girl, fragile and innocent, somewhere.

Those selfsame dreams that linger on the day,
Entice her heart with whispers, soft and low,
Like hidden chords that in her silence play,
My memory, a tremor, starts to flow.
Perhaps she hums, a melody unheard,
A tune of me, in whispers, soft and deep,
A girl, fragile and innocent, somewhere.

Perhaps she longs to write a letter, starts,
But trembling fingers falter, hesitate,
The pen may slip from those beloved hearts,
Yet hope compels, and she will seal her fate.
My name she writes upon her cherished page,
And bites her lip, a secret to embrace,
A girl, fragile and innocent, somewhere.

If sighs escape, a whisper on the breeze,
Her body slowly starts to softly burn,
Her wandering steps, where her heart does appease,
Her scarf, forgotten, falls upon the fern.
Perhaps she calls the morning, evening's name,
And knows the night as day, its darkness thinned,
A girl, fragile and innocent, somewhere,
So beautiful, yet touched by dusk's soft hand,
So beautiful.