hai baske har ik un ke ishaare men nishaan aur
In her every gesture is a sign of some other thing,
As in her love transpires doubts of some other thing.
Lord, she has not and will not understand me talking.
Give her another heart or give me some other language.
Are those brows what propel that fetching gaze?
An arrow is fixed, but perhaps there is some other bow.
When you are in the city, what grief is there to us?
If we can make it to market, we can buy some other life.
Indeed we were dab hands breaking graven images,
But as we last, our way is blocked by some other stone.
Heart’s-blood boils and I would spill it completely
If to scatter the pure blood I had some many other eyes.
I die at that sound, my head would fly away from me,
But let me hear her tell my scourge, “Try some other blows.”
People are fooled that a world-burning sun rises
Each day as I air out some other hidden wound.
I would live a bit, if I gave not my heart to you.
If I die not, I would cry out here some other days.
A stream or a scream wells up when it finds no way.
If my nature is blocked, I find some other fluency.
There are other masters of eloquence in this world,
But it is said that Ghalib’s style is some other thing.
na gul-e-naghma hun na pardah-e-saaz
No flower of song, no fretting of a guitar,
I am the report of my own fracture.
There, you spread your twisting curls.
My doubts stretch out all the farther.
Boasts of dignity allure the simple hearted,
But what rends the breast is what we are.
I do have wings that have flight’s power
Yet am captured by affection for the fowler.
Let the day be, too, when I do not long for
But seize on the might of my tormentor.
There is no drop of heart’s-blood
Not happy to bleed from my eyes forever.
Your glance at one stroke excites me.
Your tyranny is as bold as war.
Blessed be that you be unveiled—
Forehead to floor, let flow a prayer.
There is no outrage if you ask after me.
I am strange and you kind to the stranger.
Asadullah Khan is perfected here:
A fool who played for beauty’s favor.
baazicha-e-atafaal hai duniya mere aage
A trifle for children is creation to me.
Night and day at the races: existence to me.
By my lights, Solomon’s throne is deception.
The healing breath of Jesus is just diction to me.
I know the face of the world only by name.
The reality of things is a notion to me.
Saharas are buried in the dust of my commotion.
A wave bends its head, brings ocean to me.
Don’t ask how I feel traipsing behind:
Look how you blush as audience to me.
I admire myself, as you say, and my embellishment
When facing a mirror of beauty pagan to me.
Look: rose petals of speech scatter stylishly,
If red wine is poured, the glass given to me.
Amid allegations of my disgrace, full of envy, too,
How say I still, “Hers is the name not to mention to me.”
Religion impedes me. Irreligion pulls me ahead.
The Kaaba is at my back. Her church is open to me.
I am in love and my business is to beguile you, love.
Of Majnun now Layla speaks aspersion to me.
It is wonderful but you don’t die in union like
When nights of separation petition to me.
A roiling Red Sea of blood—would it were so,
And you could see the flood of what will happen to me.
Though my hand has been stilled, my eyes still sparkle.
Leave the cup here a while, and a vessel winking to me.
We share the same secrets, work and persuasions—
But all your bad-mouthing of Ghalib is foreign to me.
baske dushvaar hai har kaam
aasaan hona
Hard it is, for all tasks, to be easy.
For a man, too, it is not easy to be human.
What lamentation wills is ruin of my small house:
The doorjambs throb with wanting to be wilderness.
The madness of enthusiasm requires at every breath
That I go to it, as well as for my self to be confounded.
A veil taxes the gaze to want it dropped, as strongly
As scratches on a mirror will themselves to be eyelashes.
As at sight of the Eid moon, a never satisfied band rejoices
On the killing ground for the sword to be drawn.
In the dust we laid the scars of vigor we longed for—
Were you to be here, we would be gardens in bloom.
Joy for a botched heart is a feeling of laceration.
Like roasted liver, it relishes salt in its wounds.
On my slaughter, she swore off all violence,
As quick to shame as there was little to be sorry for.
It is an iniquitous lot for a hand’s breadth of cloth, Ghalib,
To be allotted as the rent collar on a lover’s robe.
10.9.2016
Waaaah….shaandaar…awsm…👌👌👌👌👌👌
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shukriya janaab.
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minya!!Ghaalib ko padho jara.aapki udaasiyaan khoobsurat nazm me badal jaayengi.
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bakaul Ghaalib-“vo kahte hein ki ghaalib kya he,tum hi kaho ki hum bataayein kya he……”
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Aaapka aadesh sar-maathe par…
Har ek baat kahte ho ki tu kya he
Ye bataao ke ye andaaz-e-guftgu kya he
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My plezaure mohtarma…
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Yun to he duniya me sukhanwar kaii acche
Kahte he ki ghalib ka he andaaz-e-bayaan or…😊😊
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Aapne bhi ghaalib ko chhukar dhanya kr diya
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Mirza Ghaalib ko choona?ajeeb baat karte ho.unke samane bahut se mahaan shaayar bhi chote par gaye.hum to mitti ki maanind he unke aage.
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Tej hawa chlti he mitti hi chhuaa karti he…bhari cheeje to uth hi ni paaati…esliye k6 ek jagah mitti hone me hi saar he
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theek he baba.
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Kaunsa baba….ek to jodhpur jail m he😂😂
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good.
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Kaiii baar taabar bhi accha kr lete he
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ek jalore ki chaardiwaari me qaid he.
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Nahi abhi m bhi jodhpu hi hu
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lekin Ghaalb ki barabari aaj tak koi nahi kar paaya.ye alag baat he ki vo sukhanwar aapko pasand ho ya na ho.
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I love ghaalib…mera to khudse cmpetition he….
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jodhapur me ek fort he.kya vahaan nazarband ho?
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vaah .kaya baat he.
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Nahi jodhpur me kewal girls ki nazar me band hota hu…fort to ab veeraan pade he😂😂
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koi ladki lift nahi deti isliye udaasiyon ka pahnawa he.
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Meri to hr baat aah or wah ke layak he
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u r absolutly right.
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Nahi bht jyada ne lift de di esliye…😂😂😂…confusion me udaas hu
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Always…😊
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good boy.
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lajawaab ho aap bhi.
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tum itna jo muskura rahe ho;kya gam he jisko chipa rahe ho…..
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Shukriya..
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Aapki sangat ka asar he
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vo to hoga hi.
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Kucch bhi nahi he jo chipa rahe hai
Muskura ke logo ko jala rahe hai
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Mjhe ek baat pta ni chalti aap aadhi raat ko cmments ka karobaar kyo shuru krti he…net wale free dete he kya😂😂
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meri to property he net as u have property of pain.
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Mujhe god le lijiye…mujhe ab cyber property ki bhi jarurat he…aapko taaumra yaad rakhunga😜😂
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to blog pe itna kyon muskura rahe he.muskuraaya tab jaata he jab dard had se jiyada bad jaata he.ab chodo ye baatien.koi nayi nazm likho
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nahi aadhi raat ko mere saare american n europian bloggers cum friends milte hein.
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Really Awesome. 😀 I love ghazals..
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thanks dear.
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kyonki jo bhi kareeb the bebafaa nikle.apno se begaane bhale.plz donn’t comment on dis topic.
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