Bisaat-e-ijz mein tha ek dil, yak qatra-e-khoon, woh bhi

On helplessness's board, one heart was my domain, A single drop of blood, and that too lost in rain. It stays forever bowed, to hide its weeping stain, And drips its life away, and knows its efforts vain.

I feigned offense with her, a formal, cold disdain; But that pretense itself was just a madman's chain.

How can the thought of death console a heart in pain? In my desire's own net, it's worthless prey I gain.

I wish I'd never cried, my friend, for what did I obtain? I didn't know my cries would magnify my pain.

Don't be so proud, my love, of your cruel sword's sharp reign; In my river of torment, it's just one bloody wave again.

Why ask the Vintner of the Spheres for wine to ease my brain? He only holds turned cups, and offers them in vain.

My heart holds, Ghalib, longing's joy and separation's strain; God grant the day I tell her of this pleasure and that pain.

O base and turning heavens, I know what you ordain; Just let it happen quickly now, and finish all the pain.

Don't see my brief relief and promise you will come again; That promise, too, will be for sleep a binding, magic chain.