Main aur bazm-e-mai se yun tishna-kaam aaun

That I should leave the feast of wine with my thirst unslaked? Even if I had sworn it off, what had become of the Saki?

A single arrow now has pierced them both as one; Gone are the days my heart and soul were things apart.

In this despair, Ghalib, true craft would be to act at all; My touch once solved the knots in a thread that had no flaw.