Daim pada hua tere dar par nahin hoon main
19th Century Mirza Ghalib UrduI am not always lying here before your door; A curse on such a life, for I am not a stone.
Why should my heart not fear this constant, turning plight? I am a human being; a drinking-cup I am not.
O Lord, why does the world conspire to erase me? On its great page, a repeated word I am not.
In punishment, there ought to be a proper bound; I am a sinner, after all; an infidel I am not.
Why is it that you hold me in such low esteem? A ruby, emerald, or a golden gem I am not.
Why do you now withhold your step from my own eyes? In stature, less than the sun and moon I am not.
Why do you now forbid my lips to kiss your feet? The equal of the bending sky, it seems, I am not.
O Ghalib, you're a pensioner, so praise the King; Gone are the days you'd say, 'a servant I am not'.