Ghalib turned his sorrows into poetry, he said
When asked: why are you sad? I am not, he said
You can't hide your love. I see hickies on your neck
They are mosquito bites, not love, he said
Admit. Your murdered your wife. The evidence is there
No sir, that's not true. She was angry. She hanged herself, he said
Hakim sahib, your daroo cures all EDs, How come?
it is made with rams' balls and shilajit, he said
When people asked 'Ravi' why is he so happy
I have now my fourth wife, he said
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem