dhire dhire dhire dhire sham aa rahi hai
dhire dhire dhire dhire sham aa rahi hai
dhire dhire dhire dhire dhire dhire

sham ki kitabo me patjhado ki sanso me
dhundli dhundli aankho me
sham badti aa rahi hai
dhire dhire dhire dhire dhire dhire
dhire dhire dhire dhire sham aa rahi hai
dhire dhire dhire dhire dhire dhire

nind ek gaon hai nind ki talash me
aawaze aa rahi hai aawaze aa rahi hai
nind ek gaon hai nind ki talash me
aawaze aa rahi hai pavo khada bahne
sat sat ga rahe hai
sakh wale rang liye moro ke pankh
se sabaytaya ko likh rahe hai
pipal ke paat hare dhire dhire gir rahe hai
matti ke dible me khoye khoye jal rahe hai
pipal ke pat hare dhire dhire gir rahe hai
dhire dhire gir rahe hai
dhire dhire sham aa rahi hai

mithi baras leke shank chikhne lage hai
mard sab riwaz se bandhe huye
shair saphat ungaliyo se
apne apne ghar ki shahiban me
apne apne devtao ki shabihe likh rahe hai
aaurate hatheliyo se chand bun rahi hai
dudh ki katoriyo se surajo ki
aatmaye math rahi hai dhire dhire jal rahi hai
dhire dhire bujh rahi hai dhire dhire rat aa gayi hai
dhire dhire dhire dhire rat aa gayi hai
dhire dhire dhire dhire dhire dhire

Slowly, slowly, slowly, evening descends,
Slowly, slowly, slowly, evening descends,
Slowly, slowly, slowly, slowly, slowly...

In the books of evening, in the breaths of fall,
In eyes grown dim,
Evening ascends,
Slowly, slowly, slowly, evening descends,
Slowly, slowly, slowly, evening descends,
Slowly, slowly, slowly, slowly, slowly...

Sleep, a village, in sleep's quest,
Voices approach, voices approach,
Sleep, a village, in sleep's quest,
Voices approach, feet stand and flow,
Truth upon truth sings,
Branches bearing hues, peacock's wings,
Writing civilization's tale,
Green leaves of the peepal tree, falling slowly,
Lost, consumed, burning in earthen lamps,
Green leaves of the peepal tree, falling slowly,
Slowly falling,
Slowly, evening descends.

Sweet rain arrives, conch shells cry out,
Men, bound by tradition,
With wandering fingers,
In the courtyards of their homes,
Writing the images of their gods,
Women weave the moon with their palms,
From bowls of milk, churning the souls of suns,
Slowly burning,
Slowly extinguishing, slowly, night arrives,
Slowly, slowly, slowly, night descends,
Slowly, slowly, slowly, slowly, slowly...