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SOME TIME WITH GHALIB
With Ghalib in Balli Maraan*,
I should have spent some of my days,
With poetry, music and literature,
Forgetting some sinful ways.
Perhaps this drudgery called life,
Wouldn't have been unbearable then,
When Ghalib's ghazals and advice,
Would have taught me more about men.
Perhaps the Qasim Jan Street,
Where Mirza lived with his grief,
Would have been less infamous,
If there had been no Shams* to cheat.
Maybe he and the young dancing girl,
Would have succeeded in their love,
A song of hope on her lips,
A poem by him between wine sips...
But God knew best and parted us all,
And time's sickle divided our sighs,
And yet on nights when I meditate,
I feel Ghalib's soul quite nigh.
No poet in the world I know,
Can match Mirza and his vision
If poverty had not succumbed him,
He'd have been a sage of wisdom.
