suno ramjan ki dasta to suno
rahmato ka baya hai baya to suno
rahmato ka baya hai baya to suno
ladka tha ek sahar me jo husn bemisal
kamsin tha jiski umar thi samjho ki sat sala
ramjan ke jo chand pe uski najar padi
uske bhi dil me roze ki ek aarzu jagi
roza rakhunga mai bhi ye ma bap se kaha
sahri karunga mai bhi jaga dena tum jara
suno ramjan ki dasta to suno
rahmato ka baya hai baya to suno
rahmato ka baya hai baya to suno

ladke ki bat sunli magar kuch nahi kaha
ladka subah utha to hua unse wo khafa
samjhaya ma ne bap ne aye mere gulshita
roza nahi hai farz abhi tujhpe meri ja
nanhe se dil ko bat ka sadma bada hua
maa se kaha kuran me kahta hai ye khuda
roze ke bhukh pyas jo hasti uthayegi
us rozedar ko na ye to jakh jalayegi
kuran jisme utra suno wo mahina hai
tauba kabul karta khuda wo mahina hai
suno ramjan ki dasta to suno
rahmato ka baya hai baya to suno
rahmato ka baya hai baya to suno

aayi jo sar pe rat to wo jagta raha
shahri bhi karli chupke se khush hoke so gaya
utha subah to maa se kaha sara majra
maa ne bade hi pyar se usse ye kaha
roza na rakh sakega ye jidd chhod maan ja
de dungi apna roza tujhe mere dilruba
todunga mai na roza kabhi kuch na khaunga
akhir khuda ko kis tarah ye muh dikhaunga
maa ne kaha ki bukh lagi hogi ladle
garmi hai tujhko pyas lagi hogi ladle
kahne laga ki chahe jami par ho aftab
pani ka ek katra pina bada azab
suno ramjan ki dasta to suno
rahmato ka baya hai baya to suno
rahmato ka baya hai baya to suno

almukta sar jo gayi aa gayi asar
wo pyas jaan le gayi pathra gayi najar
maa ne kaha ki haye mera lal chal diya
iftari jo banai thi wo bhi na kha saka
roze ka waqt ho gaya lekin kaha hai wo
ab to khuda ki rah me aakhir rawa hai wo
itne me ek fakir ne aakar ye di sada
mai bhi hu rozedar ki lelo meri dua
jo kuch bhi paas ho mujhe khana khilayiye
matam ye kaisa hai jara itna batlayiye
aankho se aasuo ka janaza gujar gaya
maa bap dono bole ki bacha hi mar gaya

bola fakir ki mujhko khudara batao tum
lash kaha hai bete ka mujhko dikhao tum
sahil me lash dekh ke na jane kya padha
murde ke dil pe hath rakha or di sada
masum rozedar ki ab roza khol tu
kab tak yu chup rahega jara muh se bol tu
itna hi sunke bache ne fir aankh khol di
maa mamta ki mari thi usse lipat gayi
sahil nahi tha wo farishta khuda ka tha
bache ko jinda karke jo rupesh ho gaya
aati hai insan pe imtiha ki ghadi
allah pe jan de de wo marta nahi kabhi
marta nahi kabhi marta nahi kabhi marta nahi kabhi

Hearken to the tale of Ramadan,
A testament of grace, a story to be spanned.
A tale of grace, a story to be spanned.

A boy resided in a city, a beauty untold,
A tender age of seven years, brave and bold.
As Ramadan's moon cast its ethereal light,
A longing for fasting ignited in his night.
"I, too, shall fast," he announced with humble plea,
"Wake me for Sehri, let me join, set me free."
Hearken to the tale of Ramadan,
A testament of grace, a story to be spanned.

His parents listened, their words left unsaid,
The boy awoke at dawn, his spirit misled.
His mother and father, they gently implored,
"Fasting is not yet a duty you're adored."
The small heart was wounded, a sorrow he knew,
"In the Quran, God says this is true,
Fasting's hunger and thirst, a test that will rise,
In this sacred month, where blessings will comprise."
Hearken to the tale of Ramadan,
A testament of grace, a story to be spanned.

As night arrived, he stayed awake, his mind ablaze,
He ate Sehri in secret, in a joyful haze.
He woke at dawn, to his mother, the whole tale he told,
His mother replied, her affection to unfold:
"You cannot fast, this stubbornness forsake,
I'll give you my fast, my heart you will take."
"I'll break no fast, I'll eat nothing at all,
How shall I face God if I heed to the fall?"
His mother spoke, "My dear, you must be weary,
The heat will affect you, thirst you will carry."
He replied, "Though sun scorch the lands, so grand,
To drink a drop of water, would be a command."
Hearken to the tale of Ramadan,
A testament of grace, a story to be spanned.

As the sun set, his strength had slipped away,
Thirst consumed him, his vision turned to clay.
His mother cried, "My son has gone away,"
The Iftaar untouched, he could not stay.
The time for breaking the fast, it had come to pass,
He had gone on the path of God, the Almighty's grasp.
Then a fakir arrived, his voice a decree,
"I, too, fast, share your blessings with me.
What you have, share it, nourish my soul,
Why this sorrow, let the story be told."
Tears, a funeral, flowed from their eyes,
Both parents cried, "Our child, he now lies."

The fakir spoke, "Tell me, I plead,
Show me your son, where does he sleep?"
He read a verse over the child's resting place,
Placed his hand on the heart, with a gentle embrace,
"Innocent faster, now break your fast and rise,
Why do you remain silent, open your eyes."
At this, the boy opened his eyes anew,
His mother, bound by love, clung close, she knew.
The fakir, an angel, a messenger of the Divine,
Resurrecting the boy, his spirit to shine.
Tests befall humans, trials will arise,
Give your soul to God, and you'll never die.
Never dies, never dies, never dies.