Aaina kyun na doon ke tamasha kahein jise

Why not a mirror, a true show, I pray? For where is one like you to name, they say?

My longing in your world of thought holds sway, A gaze-bouquet, my heart's dark core, they say.

Who breathed, O God, in Love's soft ear this way, The spell of waiting that is hope, they say?

From lonely grief that crowds my soul's dismay, I wear the dust that is a desert, they say.

Within my tear-filled eye, desire holds sway, An untamed passion that's a river, they say.

For pleasure's flowers to bloom in bright array, We need the dawn that pulls the cork, they say.

Ghalib, don't mind the preacher's bitter way; Is there a man whom all call good, they say?

O Lord, not even in a dream, I pray, Show me that chaos of the mind called 'world', they say.

From waiting, sparks ignite a judgment day; The stone-man's lash, a vein of rock, they say.

What union lets the rose and songbird play? Its bloom's a wound, a mocking laugh, they say.