Ghair lein mehfil mein bose jaam ke

Let others from the wine-cup find what gain remains; For me, the thirst for your one word, a world of pain, remains.

I will not blame you for this crushing strain; The cruel design of the blue sky remains.

I'll write you letters, though the act is vain; My love for just the letters of your name remains.

At Zamzam's well last night, I drank wine's sweet disdain; And on my pilgrim's robe, the morning's stain remains.

My heart, ensnared by what my eyes have seen, Is just another link within your chain remains.

The king is bathed in health, the news is plain; But for the bath-house, when good days will reign remains.

This love, O Ghalib, has left you good-for-naught; Where once a man of worldly, useful gain remains.