Kab woh sunta hai kahani meri

He never hears the story I maintain is mine; And even spoken, the attempt in vain is mine.

Don't ask about that glance's piercing pain is mine; Just see the bloody torrent, this dark stain is mine.

How can my friends weep at my wild complaint? This frantic, broken telling, so insane, is mine.

Lost from myself in thought's immense domain, To be forgotten is the cross I gain is mine.

My own reflection stands to block my way; Look how it stops my flow, this binding chain is mine.

I hold the worth of stones left in the rain; My heavy substance, sold for cheap disdain, is mine.

I am a whirlwind on the path of strain; The wind of longing's founding hurricane is mine.

Because that mouth's true nature stays unknown, My worthless knowledge, utterly inane, is mine.

My weakness renders me helpless, Ghalib; This youth that shames my age, this bitter bane, is mine.