ye galat hain ki marne walo ko
ye galat hain ki marne walo ko
zindgi se nijat milti hai
ye galat hain ki marne walo ko
zindgi se nijat milti hai
is bahane se gam ke maro ko
aur lambi hyad milti hai

mana janjire tut jati hai
aadmi phir bhi kaid rahta hai
bhul jate hain log sab lekin
kuch na kuch phir bhi yaad rahta hai
pyar hai ek nishan kadmo ka
jo mushaphir ke bad rahta hai

It is a falsehood to believe that death
Offers release from life's embrace,
A solace to the grief-stricken, a breath
Of respite in this desolate space.
It is a lie, a cruel, deceptive guise,
That death bestows an end, a final sigh.
For in its wake, an endless grief arises,
And life's long memory will never die.

Though chains of flesh may crumble and decay,
The soul remains, a prisoner of its plight.
Forgotten by the world, in disarray,
A fragment of remembrance burns so bright.
Love's imprint, a footprint on the sand,
Lingers for the traveler in this land.