na thā kuchh to ḳhudā thā kuchh na hotā to ḳhudā hotā

Duboyā mujh ko hone ne na hotā maiñ to kyā hotā

In nothingness God was there, if naught he would persist

Existence has sunk me, what loss, if I did’nt exist

huā jab ġham se yuuñ be-his to ġham kyā sar ke kaTne kā

na hotā gar judā tan se to zaanū par dharā hotā

When so burdenened, why the sorrow, of losing one’s head

If it had not been severed, would be, hanging low instead

huī muddat ki ‘ġhālib’ mar gayā par yaad aatā hai

vo har ik baat par kahnā ki yuuñ hotā to kyā hotā

Though ages he’s been dead Gaalib is, still thought of today

At every trice, to ask what would be, if it were this way


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