Gham khaane mein boda dil-e-nakaam bahut hai

This weak, failed heart's capacity for pain is more than enough; The grief that rose-red wine is on the wane is more than enough.

To ask the Saqi, I am too constrained, When just the dregs that in the cup remain is more than enough.

No arrow's in the bow, no hunter's bane; The quiet in this cage, free from all pain, is more than enough.

Why praise the pious life? If not profane, The raw desire for some celestial gain is more than enough.

What special path makes men of reason vain? When they are bound by custom's common chain is more than enough.

What need have I to circle the high fane? My pilgrim's robe, with this deep, wine-red stain, is more than enough.

Disaster looms if my love's plea is vain; She won't refuse, and my insistent strain is more than enough.

O Death, not yet! My heart's blood has not rained From weeping eyes; the work that is ordained is more than enough.

Is there a soul who doesn't know the name Of Ghalib? He's a fine poet, but his ill-fame is more than enough.