teraa chikana rup hai aisa rup hai aisa
anar jaise gadarila pagli anar jaise gadarila
chhil jaye naa hath kahi teraa hath kahi teraa
badan meraa patharila pagle
badan meraa patharila

sun ri pagali khaye chugali
ankhiya laj ki mari abb tak rahi kunvari
hoy karan kya hoga
tu karan kya jane ho pagle diwane
tu karan kya jane ho pagle diwane
mai to kab se jiyarva hari piya ki pyari
rahi hu kunvari kunvari
chhil jaye naa hath kahi teraa hath kahi teraa
badan meraa patharila pagle
badan meraa patharila

jisne pakdi meri bahiya
woh lakho mein nyara dekh jale jag sara
ki tu bhi jale jay
kasam tere galo ki in udate balo ki
kasam tere galo ki in udate balo ki
jal jayega yeh divana naa fir pachhtana
naa aansu bahana bahana
teraa chikana rup hai aisa rup hai aisa
anar jaise gadarila pagli anar jaise gadarila
chhil jaye naa hath kahi teraa hath kahi teraa
badan meraa pathrila pagle
badan meraa pathrila

mujhse gori bandh le dori
banwa dunga bangla jo hoga rang rangla
hoy baithi raj kare mai kangli kangle ki
na bhukhi bangle ki mai kangli kangle ki
na bhukhi bangle ki jahan mere sajan ka fera
pyaar ka dera vahi ghar mera
chhil jaye naa hath kahi teraa hath kahi teraa
badan meraa patharila pagle
badan meraa patharila

Your skin, a polished sheen, a form so fine,
Like pomegranate, ripe, a trembling line.
Lest my touch, so rough, should bruise the bloom,
My form, a stone, within this echoing tomb.

Listen, girl, to whispers' spiteful sting,
Eyes of shame, untouched, un-knowing, spring.
What cause, you ask, for this held-back desire?
You, a fool, to the flame that sets me afire.
I, since time began, my heart, his captive now,
Have kept myself, untouched, and vowed somehow.
Lest my touch, so rough, should bruise the bloom,
My form, a stone, within this echoing tomb.

He who clasped my arm, a glory bright,
Leaves the world consumed, in envious blight.
You too, will burn, consumed by this sweet fire.
By your cheeks, your hair, a burning pyre.
By your cheeks, your hair, that dance on high,
This madman will burn, don't then you cry.
Don't shed a tear, when the ashes fall,
Your skin, a polished sheen, enthralled by all.
Like pomegranate, ripe, a trembling line,
Lest my touch, so rough, should bruise the bloom,
My form, a stone, within this echoing tomb.

Fair maiden, bind me with your silken thread,
I'll build a palace, where bright colors spread.
And you shall reign, while I, a beggar poor,
Care not for mansions, on a gilded shore.
Care not for mansions, but your tender heart,
Where my lover roams, we'll never be apart.
My home is love, where he resides alone,
Lest my touch, so rough, should bruise the bloom,
My form, a stone, within this echoing tomb.