ladaka mai garib ka dil ka hun amir
ladaka mai garib ka dil ka hun amir
khun se likhata hun mai duniya ki taqadir
isilie to kahate hai sab mujhako shuravir
ladaka mai garib ka dil ka hun amir
khun se likhata hun mai duniya ki taqadir

vo dil hi kya jisame koi tufan nahi
vo dil hi kya jisame koi tufan nahi
gairat jo apani bech de isan hi nahi
phirata hun apane sar se badhe hue kafan
tod deta hun nigaho se mai lohe ki zajir
isilie to kahate hai
isilie to kahate hai sab mujhako shuravir
ladaka mai garib ka dil ka hun amir
khun se likhata hun mai duniya ki taqadir

duniya me mat kisi ki bhi puji chura ke ji
kuchh kam kar divane pasina baha ke ji
kuchh kam kar divane pasina baha ke ji
sikh le mujhase duniya me tu jine ki ada
rajao ki shan hai lekin lagata hun fakir
isilie to kahate hai
isilie to kahate hai sab mujhako shuravir
ladaka mai garib ka dil ka hun amir
khun se likhata hun mai duniya ki taqadir

likha hai kya nasib me kisako ye pata
kismat pe apani jisane bharosa kiya mera
kismat banane vale ne ye bhi to hai kaha
do roti ke vaste gharati ka sina chir
isilie to kahate hai
isilie to kahate hai sab mujhako shuravir
ladaka mai garib ka dil ka hun amir
khun se likhata hun mai duniya ki taqadir

A pauper's son, with a heart of gold,
A pauper's son, with a heart untold.
With blood, I pen the world's decree,
Thus, they hail me, a warrior free.
A pauper's son, with a heart of gold,
With blood, I write the world's story.

What heart is that which knows no storm?
What heart is that, not true in form?
A man who sells his honor's grace,
Is no man at all in this bleak place.
I wander, with death's shroud for crown,
And break the iron chains that bind me down.
Thus, they hail me, a warrior free.
A pauper's son, with a heart of gold,
With blood, I write the world's story.

Steal not from others, how they thrive,
But through your sweat, truly survive.
Through your sweat, truly survive.
Learn from me, the art of life's true way,
A king's own pride, though I appear a beggar.
Thus, they hail me, a warrior free.
A pauper's son, with a heart of gold,
With blood, I write the world's story.

What fate is written, who can say?
For those who trust in their own way,
The maker of fate, did also declare,
To cleave the earth for bread to share.
Thus, they hail me, a warrior free.
A pauper's son, with a heart of gold,
With blood, I write the world's story.