ramta jogi bahta pani ma ki kahe kahani
ma ka naam sada rahta hai baki sab kuch pani

ma hi mandir ma hi puja
ma hi mandir ma hi puja
ma se badhh ke koi na duja
ma hi mandir ma hi puja
ma hi mandir ma hi puja
ma se badhh ke koi na duja
ma hi mandir

ma ke puny se jagat bana hai
ishvar ko bhi ma ne jana hai
ma mamta ka ek kalash hai
jivan jot hai amrit ras hai
kya amber aur kya hai dharti
ma ki tulna ho nahi sakti yug aate hai yug jaate hai
ma ki gatha dohrate hai ma ki gatha dohrate hai
bade bade gyani kahte hai ma ka rutba sabse uncha
ma hi mandir ma hi puja ma hi mandir ma hi puja
ma se badh ke koi na duja ma hi mandir

mitti ho gai ma ki kaya bhatak raha hai fir vo saya
kadi dhup mei soch rahi hai laal pe apne kar du chaya
shul bani hai ma ki vivashta vyakul hai sujhe na rasta
shul bani hai ma ki vivashta vyakul hai sujhe na rasta
vyakul hai sujhe na rasta saral bada hai kahna sunana
kathin bada ye hai ma banana ma hi mandir ma hi puja
ma hi mandir ma hi puja ma se badh ke koi na duja
ma hi mandir

janaam janaam ki ma ki dukhiyari
kar ke har koshish ye hari
bhai bawari uljh gai hai
bachche ka sukh dhundh rahi hai
bhukh se munna tadap raha hai
man ka dheeraj tut gya hai
aanchal mei hai dudh ki nadiya
our aankho mei neer bhara hai
our aankho mei neer bhara hai
sabko sahara dene wali
koun bane ab tera sahara
koun bane ab tera sahara

A wandering yogi, flowing water's tale,
Whispers of Mother, whose name shall never fail.
All else dissolves, a fleeting watery guise,
While Mother's essence ever does arise.

Mother, the temple, Mother, the sacred rite,
No other love surpasses Mother's light.
Mother, the temple, Mother, the sacred plea,
No other love surpasses eternally.
Mother, the temple.

From Mother's grace, the universe took form,
Even God, by Mother's love, was born.
Mother, a vessel brimming with pure grace,
A life's flame, the nectar of time and space.
What of heavens, or this earth we tread?
To Mother's grandeur, no comparison can be said.
Ages come and go, then fade away,
Yet Mother's epic finds a timeless way.
Great sages whisper, their voices true,
Mother's stature, forever new.
Mother, the temple, Mother, the sacred rite,
No other love surpasses Mother's light.
Mother, the temple.

Her body, now earth, and shadows roam,
In harsh sunlight, she seeks a sheltering home.
For her child, a shadow she'd become,
A thorn her helplessness, a troubled sum.
Lost in worry, no path she sees,
A heavy burden, a bitter, troubled breeze.
Easy to say, to hear, it can appear,
To be a mother, is to embrace fear.
Mother, the temple, Mother, the sacred rite,
No other love surpasses Mother's light.
Mother, the temple.

Through lifetimes, Mother's heart in pain,
Having tried, yet she could not sustain.
Lost in madness, entangled in the fray,
Seeking her child's joy, come what may.
The little one, with hunger's bite,
Her courage shattered, lost to the night.
In her shawl, a river of milk flows free,
While tears of sorrow cloud her eyes, you see.
Who gives comfort to all, far and wide?
Who now shall comfort her, at her side?
Who now shall comfort her, her guide?