o mora jiya ghabraye
uf mora jiya ghabraye
tere chote se ganv me bambai ki sair kara de
balam mohe bambai shahar dikha de
na na na na na na
o mora jiya ghabaraye
tere chote se ganv me bambai ki sair kara de
balam mohe bambai shahar dikha de
tere is chote se ganv me na moter na rel
ghas fus ki jhopadi me katu jiwan rel
balam is jel se chhuda de
balam is jel se chhuda de
dhua gadi pe baitha de chuk chuk chuk chuk pahuncha de
o mora jiya ghabraye
tere chote se ganv me bambai ki sair kara de
balam mohe bambai shahar dikha de

n na na are waha dhan par rashan gori
kaodo pe santhan
kamro par pagadi ka ragada
kamro par pagadi ka ragada
pani bikata mol waha le log hai rangile
chup chil chanile bhola jiya bharma de
ho mera kaha man mat kar guman
gori bambai ki bat bhula de
balam mohe bambai shahar dikha de

are kya kihki karm ki rekha haye
ab tak na snima dekha ab tak na cinema dekha
kaisa tha sawan aaya re kaisi thi chandr lekha
ab tak na cinema dekha o mere ladale balam
tohe ram ki kasm jo paati ki chat khila de
haye tere chote ganv me bambai ki sair kara de
balam mohe bambai shahar dikha de
ghas fus ki jhopdi meri jamna nadi kinare
chand aur suraj aur ye sitare
jiske aage bambai tera pada pada jhak mare
ho gori ye chandni rate aur pyar ki bate
jara ghunghat ki aur muska de
ho mera kaha man mat kar guman
gori bambai ki bat bhula de
balam mohe bambai shahar dikha de

My heart, it trembles so,
Oh, my heart, it trembles so.
In your small village, let me see Bombay's glow,
Beloved, show me Bombay's show.
No, no, no, no, no, no…
Oh, my heart, it trembles so,
In your small village, let me see Bombay's glow,
Beloved, show me Bombay's show.

In this tiny village, no motor, no train,
In a grass-thatched hut, I live a life of pain.
Beloved, from this prison, release me,
Beloved, from this prison, release me.
On a smoking train, set me free, chug-chug-chug, take me away,
Oh, my heart, it trembles so,
In your small village, let me see Bombay's glow,
Beloved, show me Bombay's show.

No, no… there, money buys rations, fair maiden,
And clothes, and contentment's station.
Rooms bear the mark of the turban,
Rooms bear the mark of the turban.
Water is sold, and the people are colorful,
Quiet, alluring, the simple heart they deceive.
Oh, heed my words, cast aside your pride,
Fair maiden, forget Bombay's tide.
Beloved, show me Bombay's show.

Oh, what lines are etched by fate, alas!
Never seen a cinema, never seen a cinema's mass.
How was the monsoon, ah, and how was Chandralekha's grace?
Never seen a cinema, oh, my darling beloved.
I swear by Ram, if you'll let me taste the joys of the path,
Oh, in your small village, let me see Bombay's glow,
Beloved, show me Bombay's show.
My grass-thatched hut by the Yamuna's shore,
The moon, the sun, and the stars galore,
Before which, your Bombay fades and implores.
Oh, fair maiden, these moonlit nights and loving talk,
Just smile from behind your veil's lock.
Oh, heed my words, cast aside your pride,
Fair maiden, forget Bombay's tide.
Beloved, show me Bombay's show.