kaun hai aisa jise phulo se geeto se panchiyo se pyar na ho
kaun hai aisa jise phulo se geeto se panchiyo se pyar na ho
kaun hai aisa jise phulo se geeto se panchiyo se pyar na ho
pyar ke bina pura koi saringar na ho kaun hai aisa jise phulo se
geeto se panchiyo se pyar na ho

jiwan hai phul man ek panchi sans sans me geet re
man panchi fir udna na chahe le jo use koi jeet re
jina re wo kaisa agar kisi pe apna koi adhikar na ho
kaun hai aisa jise phulo se geeto se panchiyo se pyar na ho

is anjane shahar me aake man kitna bechain tha
kisko khabar thi inhi galiyo me chupa mere dil ka chain tha
khushi to khushi hai us khushi ka hotho se chahe izhar na ho
kon hai aisa jise phulo se geeto se panchio se pyar na ho

pahle pahal jab mujhse mile the tum kitne hairan the
tum meri mai tumhari najar me dono hi nadan the
mere humdum aisi galti hamse fir is bar na ho
pyar ke bina pura koi saringar na ho
kaun hai aisa jise phulo se
geeto se panchiyo se pyar na ho

Who is there untouched by blossoms, by songs, by the birds' sweet grace?
Who is there untouched by blossoms, by songs, by the birds' embrace?
Who is there untouched by blossoms, by songs, by the feathered trace?
Without love's full bloom, no adornment can find its place,
Who is there untouched by blossoms, by songs, by the birds' sweet grace?

Life is a bloom, the heart a bird, with each breath a song's release,
The heart-bird yearns no more to fly, if love grants it inner peace.
What life is that, where one holds no claim upon another's face?
Who is there untouched by blossoms, by songs, by the birds' sweet grace?

In this unknown city's embrace, how restless was my soul's despair,
Who knew within these very streets, my heart's own haven did repair?
Joy is joy itself, though lips may never voice its hidden space,
Who is there untouched by blossoms, by songs, by the birds' sweet grace?

When first we met, how startled were you, by my unfolding heart?
You, mine, and I, in each other's eyes, both innocently did impart.
My beloved, let not such a folly ever again take hold,
Without love's full bloom, no adornment can find its place,
Who is there untouched by blossoms, by songs, by the birds' sweet grace?