na din ko sukun hai shatir na raat ko sukun hai
ye kaisa hampe umar ishk ka junun hai
jo rachaye hai tune hath mehandi se
wo mehandi nahi hai mere dil ka khun hai

achchha sila diya tune mere pyar ka
achchha sila diya tune mere pyar ka
yaar ne hi lut liya ghar yaar ka
achchha sila diya tune mere pyar ka
ha achchha sila diya tune mere pyar ka
yaar ne hi lut liya ghar yaar ka
achchha sila diya tune mere pyar ka

mere pyar wale sabhi phul murjhaye
kante bhi fizao wale mere hisse aa gaye
mere pyar wale sabhi phul murjhaye
kante bhi fizao wale mere hisse aa gaye
raas na aaya mujhe sapna bahar ka
raas na aaya mujhe sapna bahar ka
yaar ne hi lut liya ghar yaar ka
achchha sila diya tune mere pyar ka
achchha sila diya tune mere pyar ka
yaar ne hi lut liya ghar yaar ka
achchha sila diya tune mere pyar ka

ashko ki mala mere gale pehnake
khush hai wo ghar kisi aur ka basake
ashko ki mala mere gale pahnake
khush hai wo ghar kisi or ka basake
kar diya khun dekho mere aitbar ka
kar diya khun dekho mere aitbar ka
yaar ne hi lut liya ghar yaar ka
achchha sila diya tune mere pyar ka
achchha sila diya tune mere pyar ka
yaar ne hi lut liya ghar yaar ka
achchha sila diya tune mere pyar ka

naaj tere marke bhi haske uthaye hai
ashko ke moti teri yaad me bahaye hai
naaj tere marke bhi haske uthaye hai
ashko ke moti teri yaad me bahaye hai
sun kabhi shor mere dil ki pukar ka
sun kabhi shor mere dil ki pukar ka
yaar ne hi lut liya ghar yaar ka

achchha sila diya tune mere pyar ka
achchha sila diya tune mere pyar ka
yaar ne hi lut liya ghar yaar ka
achchha sila diya tune mere pyar ka
achchha sila diya tune mere pyar ka
yaar ne hi lut liya ghar yaar ka
yaar ne hi lut liya ghar yaar ka
yaar ne hi lut liya ghar yaar ka

No peace the day affords, no solace in the night,
This fever of love, consumes me with its blight.
The henna blooms upon your hands, a crimson hue,
Not henna, but the lifeblood of my heart, it's true.

A fitting recompense, for all my love I gave,
A fitting recompense, and to an empty grave.
The friend, the thief, who plundered my own domain,
A fitting recompense, a love's cruel stain.

The flowers of my love, they withered, turned to dust,
Thorns of the world, for me, a bitter gust.
The dream of spring, a joy I could not claim,
The friend, the thief, who burned my heart with flame.

A garland of tears, around my neck you placed,
Content you are, another home embraced.
A garland of tears, a sorrow I now wear,
My faith, my trust, you crushed beyond compare.
The friend, the thief, who left my world bare.

My pride, though dead, I carried with a smile,
My tears, like pearls, for you I did compile.
My pride, though dead, I carried with a smile,
My tears, like pearls, for you I did compile.
Hear now, the echo of my heart's despair,
Hear now, the echo of my heart's despair,
The friend, the thief, who left my world bare.

A fitting recompense, for all my love I gave,
A fitting recompense, and to an empty grave.
The friend, the thief, who plundered my own domain,
A fitting recompense, a love's cruel stain.