Neemcha yaar ne jis waqt baghal mein maara

When my love tucked a dagger beneath their arm with grace, The defiant, on fields of doom, were struck down from their place.

When my love lost a fortune in some careless, fickle trade, My own heart, by that ruin, was struck down and unmade.

My life and my death from those lips and eyes are sent, In one moment revived, in the next, struck down and spent.

Love, the tyrant, drew its cruel and faithless sword, And its first blow, in timelessness, struck me down, a fate assured.

The spiteful sky's eye never burst, for all my cries, But my sigh's arrow struck down Saturn in the skies.

On the long night of parting, true death would not descend; O Fate, in my desire for death, I was struck down in the end.

From the hand of great Love, not Qais nor Farhad could flee; One in the desert, one on the mountain, was struck down for all to see.

My heart should not have tangled in that twisting hair's dark snare; This wretch, in its own coils, was struck down by despair.

Who hears my heart's cry, tangled in your hair's dark night? A believer, by an infidel's deed, was struck down from the light.

On my death-feast, you brought no flowers for my tomb's sake; Instead, its lotus dome with a stone was struck down, made to break.

When my eyes lock with yours, I fear for my heart's fate, Lest in that field of battle, it's struck down at the gate.

I knew it was Love's doing when I heard the sound, As Farhad's axe struck the mountain, he was struck down to the ground.

I could not match the grace of Mir, that master of the art; Though Zauq, in this ghazal, with force was struck down from the start.