o badi der bhai nandalala teri rah take brajabala
badi der bhai nandalala teri rah take brajabala
bal gwal ik ik se puchhe kahan hai murali wala re
badi der bhai nandalala teri rah take brajabala
o badi der bhai nandalala teri rah take brajabala

koi na jaye kunj galin me tujh bin kaliyan chunane ko
tujh bin kaliyan chunane ko
taras rahe hai
taras rahe hai, jamuna ke tat par dhun murali ki sunane ko
ab to dard dikha de natakhat kyo duvidha me dala re
badi der bhai nandalala teri rah take brajabala
o badi der bhai nandalala teri rah take brajabala

sakat me hai aj wo dharati jis par tune janam liya
jis par tune janam liya
pura kar de
pura kar de, aaj wachan wo gita me jo tune diya
tujh bin koi nahi hai mohan bharat ka rakhawala re
badi der bhai nandalala teri rah take brajabala
o badi der bhai nandalala teri rah take brajabala
bal gwal ik ik se puchhe kahan hai murali wala re
badi der bhai nandalala teri rah take brajabala
o badi der bhai nandalala teri rah take brajabala

Oh, long has the waiting stretched, Nandlala,
For you, the milkmaids of Braj yearn.
Long has the waiting stretched, Nandlala,
For you, the milkmaids of Braj yearn.

Each cowherd child asks, one by one,
Where dwells the flute-player, the One?
Long has the waiting stretched, Nandlala,
For you, the milkmaids of Braj yearn.

No one ventures now, in the bower's embrace,
To pluck the blooms, without your grace,
To pluck the blooms, without your grace.
They yearn so deeply, in this space,
Beside Yamuna's shore, for your flute's sweet chase,
For your flute's sweet chase.

Show us your suffering, you trickster so bold,
Why this confusion, this story untold?
Long has the waiting stretched, Nandlala,
For you, the milkmaids of Braj yearn.
Oh, long has the waiting stretched, Nandlala,
For you, the milkmaids of Braj yearn.

The very earth, today, is in deep despair,
The very earth, where you took breath, and care,
Where you took breath, and care.
Fulfill your promise, now, declare,
The words of the Gita, beyond compare,
In the Gita, which you did share.

Without you, Mohan, none to defend,
The guardian of Bharat, until the end.
Long has the waiting stretched, Nandlala,
For you, the milkmaids of Braj yearn.
Oh, long has the waiting stretched, Nandlala,
For you, the milkmaids of Braj yearn.

Each cowherd child asks, one by one,
Where dwells the flute-player, the One?
Long has the waiting stretched, Nandlala,
For you, the milkmaids of Braj yearn.
Oh, long has the waiting stretched, Nandlala,
For you, the milkmaids of Braj yearn.