kesariya baalma mohe bawari bole log
log re, bawari bole log
na main jivati na mariyo main
na main jivati na mariyo main
birha mahro rog
bawari bole log log re, bawari bole log
kesariya balama mohe
bawari bole log log re, bawari bole log, kesariya

chadhte din ki aanch batoru til til
til til sab jal jave
dhalte sanjh ki rakh kuredu ret me
ret me sab rah jaye
na mil payi na bichdu main
na mil payi na bichdu main
kaisa ye sanjog re
bawari bole log log re, bawari bole log
kesariya balama mohe
bawari bole log log re, bawari bole log, kesariya

maaruthal ki lambi chhaiya
nisdin nisdin kuch likh jaat
mero sandheso koi suna jo
jisko wo, jisko wo dikh jaye
preet ko dekhe nagri wale
preet ko dekhe nagri wale
peed na dekhe log re
bawari bole log, log re, bawari bole log
na main jivati na mariyo main
na main jivati na mariyo main
birha maro rog
bawari bole log, bawari bole log
kesariya balama mohe
bawari bole log log re, bawari bole log, kesariya

They call me mad, O saffron-clad lover,
Mad they call me, the world,
Neither living nor dead am I,
Neither living nor dead am I,
Grief, my disease.
Mad they call me, the world.
O saffron-clad lover,
Mad they call me, the world, saffron.

I gather the sun's heat, grain by grain,
Grain by grain, all consumed,
I sift through the ashes of dusk in the sand,
In the sand, all remains.
Neither united nor parted am I,
Neither united nor parted am I,
Such is this fate.
Mad they call me, the world.
O saffron-clad lover,
Mad they call me, the world, saffron.

The desert's long shadows stretch,
Day and night, they write something,
My message, let someone hear it,
If they, if they can see it.
The city folk see only love,
The city folk see only love,
They see not the pain,
Mad they call me, the world.
Neither living nor dead am I,
Neither living nor dead am I,
Grief, my disease.
Mad they call me, the world,
O saffron-clad lover,
Mad they call me, the world, saffron.