sharabo se kya mujhko kam
gulabo se kya mujhko kam
ho sharabo se kya mujhko kam
gulabo se kya mujhko kam
zindagi tere zindagi tere hotho ka naam
baharo se kya mujhko kam
sitaro se kya mujhko kam
baharo se kya mujhko kam
sitaro se kya mujhko kam
roshani teri roshani teri aankho ka naam
sharabo se kya mujhko kam
baharo se kya mujhko kam

jau kisi mandir me teri hi murat dikhati hai
kholu koi kitab teri hi surat dikhati hai
jau kisi mandir me teri hi murat dikhati hai
kholu koi kitab teri hi surat dikhati hai
fasano se kya mujhko kam
tarano se kya mujhko kam
fasano se kya mujhko kam
tarano se kya mujhko kam
ragini teri ragini teri bato ka naam
sharabo se kya mujhko kam
gulabo se kya mujhko kam

dono jaha pakar na mile wo sukh tere aalingan me
kanchan kaya dhal kar aayi chandani aur chandan me
dono jaha pakar na mile wo sukh tere aalingan me
kanchan kaya dhal kar aayi chandani aur chandan me
duao se kya mujhko kam khudao se kya mujhko kam
duao se kya mujhko kam khudao se kya mujhko kam
bandagi teri bandagi teri yado ka naam
baharo se kya mujhko kam
sitaro se kya mujhko kam
roshani teri roshani teri aankho ka naam
sharabo se kya mujhko kam
gulabo se kya mujhko kam
zindagi tere zindagi tere hotho ka naam

What care I for wine's dark art?
Or roses' bloom, that tear apart?
What care I for wine's dark art?
Or roses' bloom, that tear apart?
Life itself, your lips' sweet start.

What care I for spring's warm grace?
Or stars that dot celestial space?
What care I for spring's warm grace?
Or stars that dot celestial space?
Your eyes, the light I now embrace.

What care I for wine's dark art?
Or roses' bloom, that tear apart?

In temples, your form, I see,
In every book, your face for me.
In temples, your form, I see,
In every book, your face for me.
What care I for tales they weave?
Or songs the poets now conceive?
What care I for tales they weave?
Or songs the poets now conceive?
Your voice, the melody I believe.

What care I for wine's dark art?
Or roses' bloom, that tear apart?

Both worlds combined, cannot compare,
To joy found in your loving care.
My golden form, transformed to light,
In moonlit dance, and sandalwood's might.
Both worlds combined, cannot compare,
To joy found in your loving care.
My golden form, transformed to light,
In moonlit dance, and sandalwood's might.
What care I for prayers' soft plea?
Or gods, in their decree?
What care I for prayers' soft plea?
Or gods, in their decree?
Your devotion, the memory.

What care I for spring's warm grace?
Or stars that dot celestial space?
Your eyes, the light I now embrace.
What care I for wine's dark art?
Or roses' bloom, that tear apart?
Life itself, your lips' sweet start.