rang ras barse haye dhire dhire ang ang bhige haye dhire dhire
gal pe gulal malo haye dhire dhire masti me khelo haye dhire dhire
rang ras barse haye dhire dhire ang ang bhige haye dhire dhire
gal pe gulal malo haye dhire dhire masti me khelo haye dhire dhire
rang ras barse haye dhire dhire ang ang bhige haye dhire dhire

sone ka lota jamuna ka pani prem rang dala tune mira diwani
ab ke baras aisi aayi hai holi holi me holi kisi ke ye holi aa rara
pakadi kalai haye dhire dhire jhataki kalayi haye dhire dhire
gal pe gulal malo haye dhire dhire masti me khelo haye dhire
rang ras barse haye dhire dhire ang ang bhige haye dhire dhire

mari pichkari tar hui sari gori ho kali lage piya ko pyari
bhut behal hue lal lal gal
mukhda chhupaye gori ghunghata ko dal
ud jaye chunri haye dhire dhire chuyi muyi gori haye dhire dhire
gal pe gulal malo haye dhire dhire masti me khelo haye dhire dhire
rang ras barse haye dhire dhire ang ang bhige haye dhire dhire

gore chite choad ke sab kuch lal lal lal dharti hai amber bhi lal
lal hue dekho kana gi ke gal lal kale se ho gaye lal rang lal
bansi bajaye kana haye dhire dhire
muskaye radha haye dhire dhire haye dhire dhire

Hues of nectar, softly they descend,
Each limb immersed, till senses bend.
Upon the cheek, the crimson dust,
In revelry, let madness thrust.

Hues of nectar, softly they descend,
Each limb immersed, till senses bend.
Upon the cheek, the crimson dust,
In revelry, let madness thrust.

A golden vessel, Yamuna's flow,
Love's tint you cast, like Mira's glow.
This year's Holi, a vision bright,
Within the festival, a sacred light.
The wrist ensnared, with gentle hold,
The wrist released, a story told.
Upon the cheek, the crimson dust,
In revelry, let madness thrust.
Hues of nectar, softly they descend,
Each limb immersed, till senses bend.

The water-dart, a silken tear,
Fair or dark, to love held dear.
Lost in the flush, the reddened face,
The veiled blush, grace finds its place.
The veil ascends, with whispered ease,
The shy one touched, among the trees.
Upon the cheek, the crimson dust,
In revelry, let madness thrust.
Hues of nectar, softly they descend,
Each limb immersed, till senses bend.

Fair skin forsaken, all turned red,
Earth and sky, in crimson spread.
Behold, Lord Krishna's cheeks ignite,
From dark to red, a vibrant light.
His flute intones, a tender plea,
Radha smiles, eternally.
Softly.