kisse punchhe koun bataye jo hota hai kyu hota hai
suraj mein kyun aag chhupi hai dharti kyun ghum rahi hai
badal kyun rota hai
kisse punchhe koun bataye jo hota hai kyu hota hai
suraj mein kyun aag chhupi hai dharti kyun ghum rahi hai
badal kyun rota hai
kisse punchhe koun bataye jo hota hai kyu hota hai

koi ek pal mein kyun achha lagata hai
vo jo bhi kah de kyun sachha lagata hai
aisa koi kyun aata hai jhum ke ye dil kyun gata hai
koi nigahen kyun milti hai tan mein kaliyan kyun khilti hai
kyun hote hai pyar ke vade kyun hote hai aise irade
jinko hosho hosh ye dil khota hai
kisse punchhe koun bataye jo hota hai kyu hota hai

kal ki khushi ab kyun dil mein gam hi gam hai
ab aankho mein kyun aansu ka mousam hai
sare sapne tutate kyun hai
hanth hantho se chhutate kyun hai
aa jati hai kyun ye duri kyun hoti hai ye majburi
kyun miiti hai ye tanhai kyun leta hai gam angdai
kyun phir koi jagata na sota hai
kisse punchhe koun bataye jo hota hai kyu hota hai
suraj mein kyun aag chhupi hai dharti kyun ghum rahi hai
badal kyun rota hai
kisse punchhe koun bataye jo hota hai kyu hota hai

Who asks the tales, who can tell why things are?
Why does fire hide within the sun's heart?
Why does the earth endlessly spin and start?
Why do the clouds weep and tear apart?
Who asks the tales, who can tell why things are?
Why does fire hide within the sun's heart?
Why does the earth endlessly spin and start?
Why do the clouds weep and tear apart?
Who asks the tales, who can tell why things are?

Why in a moment, is one so dear?
Whatever they speak, why does truth appear?
Why does such a one appear, and the heart sway?
Why do eyes meet, and blossoms hold sway?
Why are there promises of love's sweet art?
Why do such vows rend the soul apart?
In which sanity and sense, this heart is lost,
Who asks the tales, who can tell why things are?

Yesterday's joy, now grief does unfold,
Now in the eyes, a season of cold?
Why do all dreams then fade away?
Why do hands slip, and slip away?
Why does distance descend with its dart?
Why does compulsion rend the heart?
Why does loneliness make its claim?
Why does sorrow its deep ache proclaim?
Why then does one neither sleep nor start?
Who asks the tales, who can tell why things are?
Why does fire hide within the sun's heart?
Why does the earth endlessly spin and start?
Why do the clouds weep and tear apart?
Who asks the tales, who asks the tales?
Who asks the tales, who asks the tales?