ḥusn ġhamze kī kashākash se chhuṭā mere baʿd
bāre ārām se haiñ ahl-e jafā mere baʿd
manṣab-e sheftagī ke koʾī qābil nah rahā
huʾī maʿzūlī-e andāz-o-adā mere baʿd
shamʿa bujhtī hai to us meñ se dhuvāñ uṭhtā hai
shuʿlah-e ʿishq siyah-posh huʾā mere baʿd
ḳhūñ hai dil ḳhāk meñ aḥvāl-e butāñ par yaʿnī
un ke nāḳhun huʾe muḥtāj-e ḥinā mere baʿd
dar-ḳhvur-e ʿarẓ nahīñ jauhar-e bedād ko jā
nigah-e nāz hai surme se ḳhafā mere baʿd
hai junūñ ahl-e junūñ ke liye āġhosh-e vidāʿ
chāk hotā hai garebāñ se judā mere baʿd
kaun hotā hai ḥarīf-e mai-e mard-afgan-e ʿishq
hai mukarrar lab-e sāqī meñ ṣalā mere baʿd
ġham se martā hūñ kih itnā nahīñ dunyā meñ koʾī
kih kare taʿziyat-e mihr-o-vafā mere baʿd
āʾe hai bekasī-e ʿishq pah ronā ġhālib
kis ke ghar jāʾegā sailāb-e balā mere baʿd
Our Eyes' duel, Beauty won & haply, for I’m dead
Happy Herrenvolk, Belsen, now homestead
& demobbed, its propaganda, can go populate Uganda
Now Madness has no War Minister in my stead
When a candle dies- such hues of rue as then arise
Dyes passion’s fire that, while I lived, was red.
Could someone go tell Hali, these idols are all Kali!
White nailed for, my heart, they white bled.
She spits at her mascara, it has undone its wearer
Now on Cruelty’s koh-i-noor, to death, I have fed
Madness, to the Mad, is what my parting embrace said-
‘Will you tear yet your collar? I tore off my head!’
Passion’s Wine still flows though its paladins have all fled
My pall’s the Saqi’s call, so fuck off all youse to bed!
For Faith, faithless is to what Light, as Love, wed
Men of straw bear its tazia of lead
Whence came, Ghalib, the teary floods that you shed?
& to whose door will they go, now you're dead?
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