Koi ummeed bar nahin aati

No hope I have is ever answered, No way ahead can be uncovered.

One day for death has been decreed; So why all night does sleep not come to me?

I once could laugh at my heart's sorry state; Now, for any reason, laughter won't appear.

I know the prize for piety and prayer, And yet my spirit is not drawn to there.

There is some reason that I hold my peace, Or else, what words would fail to find release?

Why shouldn't I scream, to be held in their thought? For my own voice, it seems, to them comes not.

If the heart’s scar cannot be seen by you, O Healer, does its scent not make it through?

I am in a place from which, to my own ear, No news of my own self will ever appear.

I die from the desire for death to be; Death comes, but it does not come for me.

With what face, Ghalib, will you go to the Kaaba? But then, it seems that shame does not come to you.