Qafas mein hoon gar achha bhi na jaanein mere shevan ko

Though caged, I sing; let them not judge my cry of pain, Why should my presence bring such grief to the garden’s minstrels' train?

If closeness is denied me, this small envy is enough: That God, in mercy, did not grant my rival his great love.

From your eye, not one tear fell upon the wound you made, Though you turned my heart to blood with your needle-sharp lashes' blade.

May God bring shame upon these hands, forever caught between Tearing at my own collar, or clutching the hem of my queen.

We thought it was a simple thing, to see the killing-ground, Until we saw your stallion swim where rivers of blood abound.

When word spread that a chain was needed for my feet, it's said, A restless tremor in the mine stirred the raw iron in its bed.

What joy if clouds should rain a hundred times upon my field? When I know lightning already seeks the harvest it will yield.

Steadfast devotion is the soul of faith, its very core; If a Brahmin dies true in his temple, then bury him in the Kaaba's door.

It was my fate to be a martyr; this was the nature I was given, That wherever I saw a drawn sword, I would offer up my throat to it.

If I weren't robbed by day, how could I sleep so free of care? I have no fear of being robbed; I send the highwayman a prayer.

Do you think I cannot speak, I who am a seeker of rare gems? Or that I lack the heart to go and excavate the mines for them?

O Ghalib, there can be no link to my Solomon-gloried king; Not for Fereydun, Jam, Kay-Khusrau, Darab, or Bahman's line of kings.