sainya ji kuch to bolo
mera ghunghatva to kholo
kab se khadi hu mai tere intjar me

achar dalungi kya mai achar dalungi
achar dalungi kya mai achar dalungi
kya mai javani ka achar dalungi
achar dalungi
jaldi se aaja re jaldi se aaja
nahi to maar dalungi
kya mai javani ka achar dalungi
achar dalungi
jaldi se aaja re jaldi se aaja
nahi to maar dalungi
achar dalungi achar dalungi
achar dalungi achar dalungi

sola varsh tak phal ye pakaya
lekin kisi ko na chkhaya khilaya
sola varsh tak phal ye pakaya
lekin kisi ko na chkhaya khilaya
khane khilane ka ye mauka hai aaya
khane khilane ka ye mauka hai aaya
duniya palat de naa milane ko aaya
teri javani bhi, teri javani bhi
savar dalungi re savar dalungi
jaldi se aaja nahi to maar dalungi
achar dalungi achar dalungi
achar dalungi achar dalungi

nimbu ka dalegi aam ka dalegi
achar tu mitha ya khatta dalegi
mausam rangila mera jiya jalaye
bairan javani mujhko muh chidhaye
mausam rangila mera jiya jalaye
bairan javani mujhko muh chidhaye
saiya bedardi mera nakhra dikhaye
saiya bedardi mera nakhra dikhaye
mitha zehar tan pe chadhta jaye
sara zehar mai, sara zehar mai
utar dalungi, utar dalungi
jaldi se aaja nahi to mar dalungi
kya mai javani ka achar dalungi
achar dalungi
jaldi se aaja re jaldi se aaja
nahi to mar dalungi
kya mai javani ka achar dalungi
achar dalungi
jaldi se aaja re jaldi se aaja
nahi to mar dalungi
nahi to mar dalungi

Speak, my love, a single word,
Lift the veil, let truth be heard.
I've stood waiting, time untold,
Shall I pickle youth, grown cold?
Shall I pickle, shall I pickle?
Shall I pickle youth, fickle?
Come to me, without delay,
Or I shall wither and decay.
Shall I pickle, shall I pickle?
Come to me, or I shall decay.
Pickle, pickle, let it lie,
Pickle, pickle, as I die.

Sixteen years, a fruit I bore,
For none to taste, or to adore.
Sixteen years, this fruit I nursed,
Now comes the feast, my hunger cursed.
This chance to savor, to partake,
A world transformed, for your sweet sake.
Your blossoming, your youthful prime,
I shall tend, across all time.
Hasten, or I shall expire,
Pickle, pickle, feed the fire.
Pickle, pickle, where to lie,
Pickle, pickle, as I die.

Lemon's tang, or mango's sweet,
What brine of love, shall we greet?
The season's hues, my spirit burn,
Mocking youth, for which I yearn.
The season's hues, the heart's despair,
Aching youth, beyond compare.
My cruel love, with silent art,
A bitter show, a broken heart.
Sweet venom, on my body spread,
All poison's trace, shall be shed.
Hasten, or I shall expire,
Shall I pickle youth, and mire?
Come to me, without delay,
Or I shall wither and decay.
Shall I pickle, shall I pickle?
Come to me, or I shall decay.
Or I shall die, this very day.