A thousand wishes so, each leaves one, devoid of breath.
Many desires now rest, fulfilled; so many yet remain unmet.
Fears why my smiter? Shall it remain upon his neck?
That blood, which flows free from teary eyes without let
Banished Adam from heaven, we have heard the lore but.
Here too humbled done, we leave your streets even yet.
Bared shall lie, Oh truculent! Thine acme’s enigma.
If this turbaned flair’s winding twists be vilely twirls unset.
If an Epistle be sent forth to her, let us be the scribe.
Dawn arrives, with a quill on ear from our abode, fret!
Bore me, this period, the ignominy of libations excess.
Lunation then wrought, periods that chalice upon chalice whet.
Upon whom I rested, desires of extol for my scars.
Weighed she even more maimed and broken as a wretch.
Indifferent is indeed Love, to be dead or to being alive,
her visage we live by, the heathen, who is, breath’s regret.
O’ Lessen load on this weighted breast, that, dispel I this cruel arrow.
That if dismissed the heart pops, and so with the heart so its breath.
In the name of Lord, bare not the Kaaba, of its shroud.
Lest it unfolds, and here too resides the same heathen statuette.
whence the ale house door GHALIB and whence the vicar,
but so much I know, yesterday he was entre, when I just left.
** Adapted transliteration from an URDU POET: GHALIB Mirza Asadullah Khan
1797-1869, (almost, Urdu’s Shakespeare)
“Hazaaron khwahishen aisi ke har khwahish pe dam nikle”
A common form of writing in urdu literature “the GHAZAL”.