poem – in her every indication

Although in her every indication, the aim is something else
If she shows her affection(with me) , then different suspicion arises

Oh Lord, ‘they’ have not understood, nor will [they] understand, my speech
Give ‘them’ another heart, if you don’t give me a different tongue

Does that glance of coquetry have a connection with the eyebrow?
It is certainly an arrow- perhaps it has a different bow

If you’re in the city, then what grief do I have? when we get up
I will go and bring back from the bazaar a different heart and life

Although [I /we] became quick-handed / deft in idol-breaking
If I am alive, then in my path there will be many heavy-stones

The blood of the liver is in turmoil—or I would have wept to my heart’s content
If I had had a number of different pure-blood-scattering eyes

I will die [of love] for that voice, although my head may fly off!
But let her keep saying to the executioner,’Yes, more/another! ‘

People are deceived about the world-{heating/burning} sun
Every day I show one different hidden scar/wound

There are many good poets in this world.
But it is said that Ghalib is in a league of his own.

poem – no hope

I am left with no hope at all,
No possibility to reach my goal,

The Day of my death is fixed,
I am so very anxious that I can not sleep all night.

Though I know the reward of obedience and worship,
But I have no tendency for it.

I am silent for a certain reason,
Otherwise I can convince you with my words,

Why I shouldn’t cry,
For when I don’t, she asks about me,

My heart is burning, though you cannot see the spot,
But O my doctor, can’t you smell my heart burn?

I have reached to a certain state,
From where even I cannot find myself.

I am dying (Waiting anxiously) for my death,
I don’t know where the hell my death has gone.

With what face you will go to Ka’ba, O! Ghalib,
You should be ashamed of yourself while thinking to go there.

poem – innocent heart

Innocent heart, what has happened to you?
Alas, what is the cure to this pain?

We are interested, and they are displeased,
Oh Lord, what is this affair?

I too possess a tongue-
just ask me what I want to say.

Though there is none present without you,
then oh God, what is this noise about?

I expected faith from those
who do not even know what faith is.

poem – i will not cry

I will not cry for satisfaction if I could get my choice,
Among the divine beautiful virgins of heaven, I want only you.

After killing me, do not bury me in your street,
Why should people know your home address with my reference.

Be chivalrous for you are the wine bearer (beloved) , or else I
use to drink as much wine as I get every night.

I have no business with you but O! dear friend,
Convey my regards to the postman if you see him,(to remind him that he has to deliver my message to my beloved) .

I will show you what Majnoo (Hero of the famous Arabic love tale, Layla Majnoo) did,
If I could spare some time of my inner grief.

I am not bound to follow the directions given by Khizar (A prophet who is believed to be still alive and guide the people, who have lost their way, to the right path) ,
I accept that he remained my companion during my journey.

O! The inhabitants of the street of my beloved see
if you could find the insane poet Ghalib there some where.

poem – ghazal

I wish to go and dwell,
In such a place,
Where there’s no one else.
No one to understand my speech,
No one around to talk with,
There, I want to reach.

I wish to build,
One such house,
Without a door to enter,
Without the boundary walls,
Thus there will be no neighbours,
And there will be no guard.

There will be no one thus,
To take care of me,
When I will fell ill.
And there will be no one,
To mourn or cry,
When I will die.

poem – it is not love

(You say) It is not love, it is madness
My madness may be the cause of your fame
Sever not my relationship with you
If nothing then be my enemy
What is the meaning of notoriety in meeting me
If not in public court meet me alone
I am not my own enemy
So what if the stranger is in love with you
Whatever you are, it is due to your own being
If this not known then it is ignorance
Life though fleets like a lightening flash
Yet it is abundant Time to be in love
I do not want debate on the sustenance of love
Be it not love but another dilemma
Give something O biased One
At least the sanction to cry and plea
I will perpetuate the rituals
Even if cruelty be your habit
Teasing and cajoling the beloved cannot leave ‘Asad’
Even if there is no union and only the desire remains

Poem – Mirza Ghalib

Through you the secret was revealed to the human intellect
That innumerable enigmas are solved by human intellect
You were the complete soul, literary assembly was your body

You adorned as well as remained veiled from the assembly
Your eye is longing to witness that veiled Beauty

Which is veiled in everything as the pathos of life
The assemblage of existence is rich with your harp

As mountain’s silence by the brook’s melodious harp
The garden of your imagination bestows glory on the universe

From the field of your thought worlds grow like meadows
Life is concealed in the humor of your verse

Picture’s lips move with your command of language
Speech is very proud of the elegance of your miraculous lips

Thurayyah is astonished at your style’s elegance
Beloved of literature itself loves your style

Delhi’s bud is mocking at the rose of Shiraz
Ah! You are resting in the midst of Delhi’s ruins

Your counterpart is resting in the Weimar’s garden
Matching you in literary elegance is not possible

Till maturity of thought and imagination are combined
Ah! What has befallen the land of India! 

Ah! The inspirer of the super-critical eye! 
The lock of Urdu’s hair still craves for combing

This candle still craves for moth’s heart-felt pathos
O Jahanabad! O cradle of learning and art

Your entire super-structure is a silent lament
The sun and the moon are asleep in every speck of your dust

Though innumerable other gems are also hidden in your dust
Does another world-famous person like him also lie buried in you? 

Does another gem like him also lie concealed in you? 

Naqsh Faryadi – Mirza Ghalib

Urdu Script
نقش فریادی ہے کس کی شوخیِ تحریر کا

کاغذی ہے پیرہن ہر پیکرِ تصویر کا 
کاو کاوِ سخت جانیہاۓ تنہائی نہ پوچھ 

صبح کرنا شام کا لانا ہے جوۓ شیر کا
جذبۂ بے اختیارِ شوق دیکھا چاہیے 

سینۂ شمشیر سے باہر ہے دم شمشیر کا
آگہی دامِ شنیدن جس قدر چاہے بچھائے 

مدّعا عنقا ہے اپنے عالمِ تقریر کا 
بسکہ ہوں غالب اسیری میں بھی آتش زیرِ پا 

موۓ آتش دیدہ ہے حلقہ مری زنجیر کا 
Devnagiri Script
नक़श फ़रयादी है किस की शोख़ी-ए तहरीर का 

काग़ज़ी है पैरहन हर पैकर-ए तसवीर का 
काव-काव-ए सख़त-जानीहा-ए तनहाई न पूछ 

सुबह करना शाम का लाना है जू-ए शीर का
जज़बह-ए बे-इख़तियार-ए शौक़ देखा चाहिये 

सीनह-ए शमशीर से बाहर है दम शमशीर का
आगही दाम-ए शुनीदन जिस क़दर चाहे बिछाए 

मुददअनक़ा है अपने `आलम-ए तक़रीर का 
बसकि हूं ग़ालिब असीरी में भी आतिश ज़ेर-ए पा 

मू-ए आतिश-दीदह है हलक़ह मिरी ज़नजीर का 

English Transcript

Naqsh faryaadi hai kiski shaukhi-e tehreer ka

Kagazi hai pairahan har paikar-e tasveer ka
Kaay-kaay-e-sakht-janeeha-e tanhai na poochh

Subha karna shaam ka lana hai juu-e-sheer ka
Jazbah-e-bey-ikhtiyaar-e shouk deykha chahiye

Sinah-e shamseer sey baahar hai dum shamsheer ka
Aagahee daam-e shunidan jis qadar chaahey bichhaaye

Mudad aa anka hai apney aalam-e takreer ka
Baski hoon Ghalib aseeri mein bhi aatish zer-e pa

Muu-e aatish-deedah hai halkah meri zanjeer ka 

No Hopes Comes My Way – Mirza Ghalib 

No hope comes my way

No visage shows itself to me

That death will come one day is definite

Then why does sleep evade me all night? 

I used to laugh at the state of my heart

Now no one thing brings a smile

Though I know the reward of religious devotion

My attention does not settle in that direction

It is for these reasons that I am quiet

If not, would I not converse with you? 
Why should I not remember you? 

Even if you cannot hear my lament
You don’t see the anguish in my heart

O healer, the scent of my pain eludes you
I am now at that point

That even I don’t know myself
I die in the hope of dying

Death arrives and then never arrives
How will you face Mecca, Ghalib

When shame doesn’t come to you 

Pain did not Become Grateful to Medicine – Mirza Ghalib

Pain did not become grateful to medicine

I didn’t get well; [but it] wasn’t bad either
Why are you gathering the Rivals? 

[It was just] a mere spectacle [that] took place, no complaint was made

Where would we go to test our fate/ destiny? 

When you yourself did not put your dagger to test 

How sweet are your lips, that the rival

[after] receiving abuse, did not lack pleasure

Recent/ hot news is that she is coming

Only today, in the house there was not a straw mat! 

Does the divinity belonged to Namrood’? 

[cause] in your servitude, my wellbeing did not happen
[God] gave life- the given [life] was His alone 

The truth is; that the responsibility was not fulfilled [by us]
If the wound was pressed, the blood did not stop 

[though] the task was halted, [but the bleeding still] set out
Is it highway robbery, or is it heart-theft? 

Having taken the heart, the heart-thief set out [to depart]

Recite something, for people are saying

Today “Ghalib” was not a ghazal-reciter 

Rahm Kar Zaalim – Mirza Ghalib 

रह्‌म कर ज़ालिम कि क्‌या बूद-ए चिराग़-ए कुश्‌तह है

नब्‌ज़-ए बीमार-ए वफ़ा दूद-ए चिराग़-ए कुश्‌तह है

दिल-लगी की आर्‌ज़ू बे-चैन रख्‌ती है हमें

वर्‌नह यां बे-रौनक़ी सूद-ए चिराग़-ए कुश्‌तह है

The Dropp Dies In The River – Mirza Ghalib

The dropp dies in the riverof its joy

Pain goes so far it cures itself

In the spring after the heavy rain the cloud disappears

That was nothing but tears

In the spring the mirror turns green

holding a miracle

Change the shining wind

The rose led us to our eyes

Let whatever is be open.

Poem – What Cannot Be Said – Mirza Ghalib 

There’s one who took my heart away. But does she own it? I can’t say. 
See her as unjust though I may, 

Is she a tyrant? I can’t say. 
She strides a bloodless battlefield 

Where there’s no battle-axe to wield. 
She keeps a wineless banquet-hall 

Where there’s no bowl to raise at all. 
Although she serves wine ceaselessly, 

Her fingers bring no cup to me. 
Her idol-carving hand is sure, 

But you cannot call her Azer 
When riots quiet down, why must 

You brag of ousting the unjust? 
There will be nothing you can say 

Of the unjust on Judgment Day. 
Within the breast the secret lies 

Which none can ever sermonize. 
How strange a thing it is that throws 

The mind askew till no one knows 
How I Ghalib am no believer 

But can’t be called unfaithful either. 

Poem – Come That My Soul Has No Repose – Mirza Ghalib 

Come that my soul has no repose 
Has no strength to bear the injustice of waiting 
Heaven is given in return for the life of this world 

But that high is not in proportion to this intoxication 
Such longing has come from your company 

That there is no control over my tears 
Suspecting torment, you are indifferent to me 

So no love resides in these clouds of dust 
From my heart has lifted the meaning of pleasure 

Without blossoms, there is no spring in life 
You have pledged to kill me at last 

But there is no determination in your promise 
You have sworn by the wine, Ghalib 

There is no faith in your avowal

Poem – This Was Not Our Destiny – Mirza Ghalib

This was not our destiny, that union with the beloved would take place.
If we had kept on living longer, then would have been kept waiting

If I lived on your promise, then know this that I knew it to be false
For would I not have died of happiness, if I had had trust [in it]?

From your delicacy I knew that the vow had been bound loosely
You could never have broken it, if it had been firm

Let someone ask my heart about your half-drawn arrow
Where would this anxiety/ pain have come from, if it had gone through the liver?

What kind of friendship is this, that friends have become Advisors?
If someone had been a healer, if someone had been a sympathizer!

From the rock-vein would drip that blood which would never have stopped
If this which you are considering ‘grief’ this were just a spark

Although grief is life-threatening, how would we escape, while there is a heart?

If there were not the grief of passion, there would be the grief of livelihood

To whom might I say what it is- the night of sadness is a bad disaster!
Why would I have minded dying, if it took place one time?

Since upon having died, I became disgraced- why were I not drowned in the ocean?
Neither a funeral procession would ever been formed, nor would there anywhere be a tomb

Who can see him? for that Oneness is unique
If there were even a whiff of twoness, then somehow [He] would be two or four

These problems of mysticism! this discourse of yours, Ghalib!
We would consider you a saint- if you weren’t a wine-drinker.
Mirza Ghalib

Poem – The World is a Playground – Mirza Ghalib

I perceive the world as a playground
Where dawn and dusk appear in eternal rounds
In His Universal form is a plaything the throne of Solomon
The miracles of the Messiah seem so ordinary in my eyes
Without name I cannot comprehend any form
Illusionary but is the identity of all objects
My anguish envelopes the entire desert
Silently flows the river in front of my floods
Ask not what separation has done to me
Just see your poise when I come in front of you
Truly you say that I am egotistical and proud
It is the reflection, O friend, in your limited mirror
To appreciate the style and charm of conversation
Just bring in the goblet and wine
Hatred manifests due to my envious mind
Thus I say, don’t take his name in front of me
Faith stops me while temptations attract
Inspite of Kaaba behind and church ahead
I am the Lover, yet notorious is my charm
Thus Laila calls names to Majnu in front of me
‘Dies’ not one though the union is a delight
In premonition of the separation night
Alas, this be it, the bloody separation wave
I know not what else is in store ahead of me
Though the hands don’t move, the eyes are alive
Wine and goblet, let them stay in front of me
Says ‘Ghalib’
Conscience is companion and trusted friend
Don’t pass any judgments in front of me.
Mirza Ghalib

Poem – A Thousand Desires – Mirza Ghalib

Thousands of desires, each worth dying for…
Many of them I have realized…yet I yearn for more…

Why should my killer (lover) be afraid? No one will hold her responsible
For the blood which will continuously flow through my eyes all my life

We have heard about the dismissal of Adam from Heaven,
With a more humiliation, I am leaving the street on which you live…

Oh tyrant, your true personality will be known to all
If the curls of my hair slip through my turban!

But if someone wants to write her a letter, they can ask me,
Every morning I leave my house with my pen on my ear.

In that age, I turned to drinking (alcohol)
And then the time came when my entire world was occupied by alcohol

From whom I expected justice/praise for my weakness
Turned out to be more injured with the same cruel sword

When in love, there is little difference between life and death
We live by looking at the infidel who we are willing to die for

Put some pressure on your heart to remove that cruel arrow,
For if the arrow comes out, so will your heart…and your life.

For god’s sake, don’t lift the cover off any secrets you tyrant
The infidel might turn out to be my lover!

The preacher and the bar’s entrance are way apart
Yet I saw him entering the bar as I was leaving!

Thousands of desires, each worth dying for…

Many of them I have realized…yet I yearn for more
Mirza Ghalib