machal ke jab bhi aankho se
chhalak jaate hai do aansu
sunaa hai aabashaaro ko
badi taqalif hoti hai

khudaaraa ab to bujh jaane do
is jalati hui lau ko
charaago se mazaaro ko badi
taqalif hoti hai

kahu kyaa vo badi maasumiyat se
puchh baithe hai
kyaa sachamuch dil ke maaro ko
badi taqalif hoti hai

tumhaaraa kyaa tumhe to
raah de dete hai kaante bhi
magar ham kaakazaaro ko
badi taqalif hoti hai

When, in a tempest, from the eyes they spill,
Two tears descend, a sorrow's deep thrill,
I hear the waterfalls, in mournful plight,
Are burdened by the weeping of the night.

Oh, pray, now let this burning flame subside,
Extinguish now, where shadows softly hide,
For lamps and tombs, in silent, solemn plea,
Are wounded by this burning agony.

What can I say? With innocence they plead,
"Do hearts, so broken, truly feel the bleed?"
The question echoes, fragile and so frail,
A whispered truth, within the mournful gale.

Your path is easy, thorns may yield to you,
But we, the broken, bruised, and feeling few,
Feel every prick, each wound that life imparts,
And suffer deeply in our shattered hearts.