Which beloved am I to claim, or the fabled Anarkali's grace?
You, you alone, my Julie, I love you, embrace.
You are not love, my friend, not the fire of desire,
You are not love, my friend, not the heart's burning pyre.
You are not love, my friend, I love you, it's true,
You love me, miss you like crazy, my view.
Cha cha, kohl-lined eyes, no, no, no, refrain,
I am devoted, O idol, to love's sweet pain.
My idol, my idol, no, don't forsake,
Don't abandon the maiden's party, for goodness sake.
May we not be poisoned by the venom of fate, we, moonlit nights,
My idol, my idol, a Kashmiri's embrace, my idol, my idol, the kiss that ignites.
You are a Kashmiri apple, I the world of Mumbai's gleam,
You are the English web, I a simple, innocent dream.
Oh, I am Laila, you, the stream where Majnun did weep.
This love is but a pretext, a reason to despair, my dear,
My idol, my idol, a Kashmiri's embrace, drawing near.
You are the English web, my idol, my idol, a Kashmiri's embrace, drawing near.
You are the English web, my idol, my idol, a Kashmiri's embrace, drawing near.
My idol, my idol, a Kashmiri's embrace, drawing near.
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