ye na thi hamari qismat ki visal-e-yar hota

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ye na thī hamārī qismat ki visāl-e-yār hotā

agar aur jiite rahte yahī intizār hotā

That my love be consummated, fate did not ordain

Living longer had I waited, would have been in vain

tire va.ade par jiye ham to ye jaan jhuuT jaanā

ki ḳhushī se mar na jaate agar e’tibār hotā

that your promise made me live, let that not deceive

happily my life I’d give, If I could but believe

tirī nāzukī se jaanā ki bañdhā thā ahd bodā

kabhī tū na toḌ saktā agar ustuvār hotā

to your daintiness is tied, the frailty of your vow

you couldn’t break it if you tried, if it was firm somehow

koī mere dil se pūchhe tire tīr-e-nīm-kash ko

ye ḳhalish kahāñ se hotī jo jigar ke paar hotā

what pain your arrow, partly drawn, inflicts upon my heart

cleanly through if it had gone, would it this sting impart?

ye kahāñ kī dostī hai ki bane haiñ dost nāseh

koī chārasāz hotā koī ġham-gusār hotā

Say what friendship is this pray? That friends seek to preach

instead of trying to allay my pain with soothing speech

rag-e-sañg se Tapaktā vo lahū ki phir na thamtā

jise ġham samajh rahe ho ye agar sharār hotā

blood would ooze from veins of stone, not stem nor ever tire

if what to us as grief is known, were but a spark of fire

ġham agarche jāñ-gusil hai pa kahāñ bacheñ ki dil hai

ġham-e-ishq gar na hotā ġham-e-rozgār hotā

If sorrow’s fatal, then tell me, how can this heart endure?

if love’s sorrow would not be, life’s sorrow would, for sure

kahūñ kis se maiñ ki kyā hai shab-e-ġham burī balā hai

mujhe kyā burā thā marnā agar ek baar hotā

of gloomy nights alone and sad, to whom should I complain?

Dying just once would not be bad, but each evening again?

hue mar ke ham jo rusvā hue kyuuñ na ġharq-e-dariyā

na kabhī janāza uThtā na kahīñ mazār hotā

After death I was reviled, I would have rather drowned

No remnant to be defiled, no grave site to be found

use kaun dekh saktā ki yagāna hai vo yaktā

jo duī kī bū bhī hotī to kahīñ do-chār hotā

Him how can anybody see, unique, no form, no face

were there a whiff of duality we’d see Him at some place

ye masā.il-e-tasavvuf ye tirā bayān ‘ġhālib’

tujhe ham valī samajhte jo na bāda-ḳhvār hotā

on mystic philosophy, Gaalib, your words profound

a saint we’d surely think you be, if drunken you weren’t found

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