Jahan tera naqsh-e-qadam dekhte hain

Wherever the trace of your footstep appears, we see, In every garden path, a paradise we see.

The scattered-hearted, in the mole beside your lips, A journey into nothingness in the heart's dark core we see.

Your cypress-stature, taller by a human height, Makes the great chaos of the judgment day seem slight we see.

What a spectacle! O you, lost in your mirror's gaze, With what an endless, burning longing you we see.

Find the trace of my lament's fire in this scarred heart; It is the night-traveler's own footprint that we see.

Dressed in the guise of mendicants, O Ghalib, now The grand performance of the generous we see.

We rarely see a soul completely lost to self, For even the gazelle is bound by its own flight we see.

The scripture of our shattered heart, writ in one stroke, Your eyelash as the pen that writes in gems we see.