ye mera chaman hai mera chaman
main apne chaman ka bulbul hun
ye mera chaman hai mera chaman
mai apne chaman ka bulbul hun
sare share nigahe nargish hun
pagastar gesu sungul hoon
ye mera chaman hai mera chaman
mai apne chaman ka bulbul hun

jo taak haram me roshan hai
woh shamma yahan bhi jalti hai
us dast goshe goshe se
ek joye haya ugalti hai
ye dast jhunu di diwano ka
ye bazmein wafa parwano ki
ye sheher tanab rumano ka
ye khund pari armaano ki
fitrat ne sikhai hai humko
ustad yahaan parvaz yahan
gaaye hai wafa ke geet yahaan
chheda hai junun ka saaz yahan
ye mera chaman hai mera chaman
main apne chaman ka bulbul hun
sare share nigahe nargish hun
pagastar gesu sungul hun
ye mera chaman hai mera chaman
mai apne chaman ka bulbul hun

is bazm me tere khenchi hai
is bazm me saagar tode hai
is bazm me aankh bichhayi hai
is bazm ne dil tak jode hai
har shaam hai shaame musar yahan
har sab hai sabe siraaj yahan
aye sare jahaan ka soj yahan
aur sare jahaan ka saaz yahan
zaraat boje walikum
sau baar juka aakash yahan
khud aankh se humne dekhi hai
paatil ki shikaste paak yahan
ye mera chaman hai mera chaman
mai apne chaman ka bulbul hun
sare shaare nigaahe nargish hun
pagastar gesu sungul hun
ye mera chaman hai mera chaman
mai apne chaman ka bulbul hun

jo abra yahan se uthe hai
woh saare jahan pe barsega
aur jo rava pe barsega
har ko e era par barsega
har sarosa mann pe barsega
har dasto daman par barsega
khud apne chaman par tarsega
gairo ke chaman par barsega
har shehre ka tarab pe barsega
har kasre tarab pe tadpega
ye abra hamesa barsa hai
ye abra hamesa barsa hai
ye abra hamesa barsega
ye abra hamesa barsega
ye abra hamesa barsega
ye abra hamesa barsega

This garden is mine, my own garden, a nightingale I am, within it I sing,
My head, the narcissus's gaze, my feet, the hyacinth's tresses, I bring.
This garden is mine, my own garden, a nightingale I am, within it I sing.

The flame that burns bright in the holy halls, here, too, its light does gleam,
From every corner, a river of modesty, a delicate, flowing dream.
This is the hand of the mad, the madmen's dance, a gathering of lovers true,
A city woven of stories, a kingdom of longings, forever new.
Nature has taught us, a master's grace, where soaring spirits reside,
Here, we sing of loyalty, a song of love, where passion cannot hide.
This garden is mine, my own garden, a nightingale I am, within it I sing,
My head, the narcissus's gaze, my feet, the hyacinth's tresses, I bring.
This garden is mine, my own garden, a nightingale I am, within it I sing.

In this gathering, I have drawn the lines, in this gathering, I've shattered the cup,
In this gathering, I have laid down my eyes, this gathering, has lifted me up.
Each evening, a night of joy, each night, a dawn of light, it would seem,
The burning of the world, the music of all worlds, a vibrant, shared dream.
The burden of atoms, a thousand times, bows down to the heavens' height,
With my own eyes, I have witnessed here, the sacred, stunning flight.
This garden is mine, my own garden, a nightingale I am, within it I sing,
My head, the narcissus's gaze, my feet, the hyacinth's tresses, I bring.
This garden is mine, my own garden, a nightingale I am, within it I sing.

The clouds that rise from this very place, shall shower upon the world's face,
And where it rains, it pours, on every soul, in every time and space.
On every heart, upon every hand, on every sleeve, it shall descend,
Upon my garden, it shall weep, on other gardens, it will extend.
On every city, on every joy, on every palace of delight, it pours,
This cloud has always rained, a blessing found, and always shall it be ours.