Zikr mera ba-badi bhi usey manzoor nahin

She will not hear me mentioned, even in contempt, Yet when a rival's fortunes fall, she's not exempt.

A promised garden walk—what fortune for my soul! The fated sentence for my death is not the goal.

This world, the waist of Being Absolute, they say; Though others see it, I will not accept its sway.

My single drop, in truth, contains the endless sea, But I won't ape Mansur's crude boast of piety.

Alas, that taste for ruin! For that strength is gone; This ailing body has no strength for fighting on.

I say, "On Judgment Day, at last, you will be mine!" She scoffs, "And do you think I am some prize divine?"

Be cruel, oh, be cruel, if kindness you withhold; In your neglect, no true excuse can make you bold.

We are the ones who drink from Jamshid's fabled cup; This is a wine that from the grape was never wrung.

Ghalib, beside Zahoori, I am second-rate; The proof I have? My name is not among the great.