Dekh kar dar-parda garm-daaman-afshaani mujhe

Her veiled and passionate dismissal, shown to me, Has bound my very nakedness fast to me.

I am the whetstone for the sword of her gaze; Bravo! What a blessing, this tough life, to me.

Why shouldn't she be aloof? Her heart is quite assured; She knows that my own secret questions consume me.

When fate began to write my house of sorrow’s doom, It listed, as a cause of ruin, even me.

That infidel grows suspicious—I wish she would not— That a garden bird’s song brings such pleasure to me.

My longing for the body’s ease led to the grave, But Judgment’s chaos gave no moment’s peace to me.

Fulfill your promise to come—what kind of style is this? Why have you assigned my own home’s doorkeeping to me?

Ah, the joy of the coming spring! A wondrous thing! The passion to compose new verse returns to me.

God has granted my brother a new life once more; Ghalib, Mirza Yusuf is a second Joseph to me.