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A heart is a heart, not a brick or a stone,

So, why should it not cringe with pain?

Weep I shall a thousand times or more,

Why harass me again and again?



It is not your home, nor your harem,

It is not anyone's right to claim,

It is a thoroughfare where I often sit,

Why should I not be seen here again?



Yes, my beloved doesn't adore God,

Yes, she is not faithful to some,

So why should they to whom virtues matter,

Come and wait in this defamed domain?



Nothing has stopped here without Ghalib,

Ghalib, the poor soul, the infamous man,

So why do detractors shed tears for him.

And why do they lament all over again?