gore gal pe kala til hain
gore gal pe kala til hain
woh ladki badi chanchal hai
diwana kar dala diwana mujhe kar dala
kabhi hosh uda le jaye ho
kabhi hosh uda le jaye
kabhi nind churale haye
haye diwana kar dala diwana mujhe kar dala
gore gal pe kala til hai

honth gulabi chaal sharabi nain hai usake tikhe
uske rup ki dhup ki aage chand sitare phike
use dekh ke koyal gaaye ho
use dekh ke koyal gaaye
use dekh ke badal chaaye
rup bada matwala haye
rup bada matwala
diwana kar dala hoye diwana mujhe kar dala
gore gal pe kala til hai

phulo se woh baatein karti chandni ke sang khele
use dekh ke lag jate hai geet gajal ke mele
sangeet khanak uthta hai ho
sangeet khanak uthta hai
har geet mehak uthta hai
woh masti ka pyala haye
woh masti ka pyala
diwana kar dala hoye diwana mujhe kar dala
gore gal pe kala til hai

shayar uspe geet likhe aur gayak taan lagaye
taar sitar ke chede sargam aur bansuri gaaye
woh phulo ki hai wadi ho
woh phulo ki hai wadi
woh pariyo ki shehjadi
premrang rang dala
premrang rang dala
diwana kar dala haye diwana mujhe kar dala
gore gal pe kala til hain
woh ladki badi chanchal hai
diwana kar dala haye diwana mujhe kar dala
gore gal pe kala til hain

Upon a cheek of pearl, a raven's grace,
Upon a cheek of pearl, a shadowed space,
That maiden, light, a whirlwind's art,
Has stolen reason, seized my heart.
She makes me mad, mad with desire,
My senses flee, consumed by fire.
She steals my sleep, a nightly quest,
Oh, mad she makes me, puts me to the test!
Upon a cheek of pearl, a raven's grace.

Her lips, a blush, her walk, a drunken sway,
Her eyes, sharp knives that pierce the day.
Before her beauty, sunbeams fade and pale,
And moon and stars in envy wail.
The cuckoo sings to greet her light,
The cuckoo sings, a pure delight,
The clouds descend, a misty shroud,
Her beauty vast, a vibrant crowd.
She makes me mad, oh, mad I yearn,
Upon a cheek of pearl, the lessons I must learn.

With flowers she converses, plays with moon's soft gleam,
To witness her, a festival of song, a poet's dream.
The music rings, a vibrant sound,
The music rings, with love profound.
Each song with fragrance fills the air,
She is the cup, beyond compare.
She makes me mad, oh, mad I crave,
She makes me mad, beyond the grave.
Upon a cheek of pearl, a raven's grace.

The poets write of her, their verses flow,
The singers sing, their melodies bestow,
The strings of sitar, in a dance begin,
The scales and flute, their music spin.
A valley blooming, flowers unfurl,
A princess fair, in a dream-filled world,
She paints with love, a vibrant hue,
She paints with love, forever true.
She makes me mad, oh, mad I sigh,
Upon a cheek of pearl, beneath the sky.
That maiden, light, a whirlwind's art,
Has stolen reason, seized my heart.
She makes me mad, oh, mad I pray,
Upon a cheek of pearl, come what may.