(Bahot sahi ghame geti, sharaab kam kyaa hai)
The world is full of sorrow, but where's the dearth of wine?
I serve the King's Cup-bearer, how can the grief be mine?
Your style, your behaviour, I know what it is;
You've graced my rival - what else cruelty is?
In verses, the fireworks of Ghalib's pen -
We, too, believe, but now what's left in them?
...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
wonderful. I like Mirza Ghalib's ghazal. thanks.
Thank you.