Kehte to ho tum sab ke but-e-ghaliya-moo aaye

You say that beauty, scented, I should fear, drew near; But cry in panic, someone, say that she drew near!

In death's last struggle, love’s own force is all that’s clear; I cannot speak, but hope to ask for me she’ll draw near.

Like lightning, flame, or quicksilver within its sphere; I cannot grasp her coming, even though she drew near.

The angels in the tomb will surely show no fear When from my lips the scent of last night's wine draws near.

I do not dread the headsman, nor the preacher so austere; I recognize my love, in any form she might draw near.

The seeker shuns the taunts of failure, sharp and clear; Seeing she can't be won, I lost myself before I drew near.

It is not in my nature to sit calmly, waiting here; If not her door, then to the Kaaba’s shrine I’ll draw near.

My friends described the power of my sorrow and my tear; ‘You were untouched,’ it said, ‘but I drowned all when I drew near.’

What words for her proud court, O Ghalib, can make its splendor clear? I went, and for my own dark fate I wept a tear, and drew near.