aa
mori binati suno bhagvaan, abb mori binati suno bhagvaan
aaj meri tuti bina me phir se daro pran

na mangu yah mahal khajane, na mangu yah taj
aaj bhare darbar me svami rakhiyo meri laj
ragi ko bas saat suron kaa data de vardan
abb mori binati suno bhagvan
abb mori binati suno bhagvan

suraj kee raftar badal de, mann too rakh le mera
jab tak tuta tar na bole, jag me rahe andhera
shabanm se nikale angare dal dal jal jaye
kanto se bhar jaye bagiya, reti phul khilaye
jis jag me sangit nahi vo ho jaye shamshan
vo ho jaye shamshan, vo ho jaye shamshan
vo ho jaye shamshan, vo ho jaye shamshan

Hearken, Lord, to my plea, hearken now, Lord, to my plea,
Grant life anew to my broken lyre, set its music free.

I crave no palace, no treasures untold, no crown upon my brow,
In your grand court, protect me, Lord, heed my vow.
Bestow on this singer, the seven notes of a song's command,
Hearken, Lord, to my plea, across the land.
Hearken, Lord, to my plea, now lend a hand.

Alter the sun's swift course, preserve my name in grace,
While silent strings remain, the world remains a desolate place.
Let embers ignite from the morning dew, setting branches ablaze,
Let thorns fill the garden, let sand bloom forth in a maze.
A world devoid of music, transforms to a funeral pyre,
A funeral pyre, consumed by fire.
A funeral pyre, consumed by fire.
A funeral pyre, the world's desire.