Phir kuchh ik dil ko be-qaraari hai

Again, a strange disquiet fills my heart, My chest goes searching for a fatal wound.

Again, my nails begin to claw inside, The season comes for crimson tulips' pride.

The sacred focus of my longing gaze Is that same curtain of her guarded ways.

My eye, the broker for the trade of shame; My heart, the buyer of a ruined name.

The same laments in hundred-colored hues, The same despair a hundred rains infuse.

Again, her graceful air, her walking's art, Creates a judgment day within my heart.

Again, her beauty makes its proud display; It is the market where I give my life away.

Again, I die for her, the one untrue; Again, this is the only life I pursue.

Again, the court of pride has opened its great door; The market for my trial burns once more.

A darkness starts to fall across the land; Again, her flowing hair has taken command.

Again, a shard of soul begins to plead, A single cry of lamentation, born of need.

Again, love's witnesses are called to stand; The verdict's given: tears throughout the land.

The case between the heart and tear-filled eye Today is heard again, its trial is nigh.

This self-loss is not without a cause, O Ghalib; Some truth remains behind a sacred screen.