paheli chhoti si paheli chhoti si
tu jaane ya na jaane tu maane ya na maane
jo samjhe wo bada
paheli chhoti si paheli chhoti si
tu jaane ya na jaane tu maane ya na maane
jo samjhe wo bada

aao ji aao puchhu jo wo batao, dekho muh na chhupao
raja baitha dekhe ke rani baithi ??
samjhe kya samjhau, main batau batao
main samjh gayi, kya
diya aur bati, wah shabbash
paheli chhoti si
tu jaane ya na jaane tu maane ya na maane
jo samjhe wo bada

deke jo dikhayi kuchh bhi na chhupayi
kuchh bhi to na chhupayi
pal pal dil ye chaahe jaisa dekhe dekha kijiye
ye kya koi bataye, tum bolo, ye to mushkil hai
ha socho phirse socho
ha samajh gaya kya, aaina shabbash
paheli chhoti si paheli chhoti si
tu jaane ya naa jaane tu maane ya naa maane
jo samjhe wo bada

aaya jo savera sapna tha jo mera
gaya dur andhera
jo bhi nikla ?? sone ki dadhi sone ke baal
bolo samjhe kaha mera
scooter are buddhu scooter nahi suraj shabbash

A riddle, a tiny thread, a whispered plea,
Whether you know, or choose to disagree.
The wise ones grasp, the knowing ones are free.
A riddle, a tiny thread, for you and me.
Whether you know, or choose to disagree.
The wise ones grasp, their spirit wild and free.

Come, friends, attend, the question I impart,
No hiding now, reveal your beating heart.
A king awaits, and then a queen's sweet art?
What wisdom stirs? What truth shall we now start?
I understand! Explain the subtle start.
What is it? Tell! My soul begins to dart.
The lamp and wick, a radiant, burning spark!
A riddle, a tiny thread, in shadowed dark.
Whether you know, or choose to disagree.
The wise ones grasp, their souls eternally.

Revealed, unfolded, nothing held in shade,
Nothing concealed, no secrets to be made.
Each moment yearns, to be fully displayed.
What's this you say? A puzzle to evade?
Think once again, the answer to be weighed.
I see the light! The mirror's bright parade!
A riddle, a tiny thread, a life displayed.
Whether you know, or choose to disagree.
The wise ones grasp, forever they shall be.

The dawn arrives, the dream, my heart's desire,
And darkness flees, consumed by rising fire.
What then appears? What does the sun retire?
With golden beard, and locks of golden pyre?
Where is my clue? My soul begins to tire.
The scooter, no! Not that. The sun's attire!