Anilvohra’s Weblog

September 12, 2007

A man called ‘Ghalib’

Filed under: Uncategorized — anilvohra @ 8:46 am

A man who don’t need any introduction, whose poetry is as famous as the flower Rose. Recently his poetry got translated in many languages in Europe, and got very popular in Poland.

I started learning his poetry more than 10 years back, his ideas of thoughts are still fresh and relevent to modern societies. His poetry reflects ideas from the common situations like a child is playing in the street, to something about life after death and also existence of once in the life.

I am putting my ideas and good collection of poetry of Ghalib on these rare pages, i hope you will enjoy them and can put your comments also.

Mirza Asadullah Baig Khan (Urdu/Persian: مرزا اسد اللہ خان ), pen-name Ghalib (Urdu/Persian: غالب, ġhālib) and Asad (former pen-name)(27 December 179615 February 1869), was an all time great classical Urdu and Persian poet of the subcontinent. Most notably, he wrote several ghazals during his life, which have since been interpreted and sung in many different ways by different people. He is considered to be the most dominating poet of the Urdu language.

Yeh na thee hamari qismat..
Yeh na thee hamari qismat keh wisaal-e-yaar hotaAgar aur jeete rahtay yehi intezaar hota
Tere waade par jiyee ham to yeh jaan jhoot janaKeh khushi se mar na jaate agar intezaar hota
Yeh kahaan ki dosti hai bane hain dost naasehKoi chaarasaaz hota koi ghamghuzar hota
Kahoon kis se main keh kya hai shab-e-gham buri balaa haiMujhe kya bura tha marana agar aikbaar hota
Huay mar keh ham jo ruswa huay kyun ka gharq-e-dariyaNa kabhi janaza uthata na kahin mazaar hota
Yeh masaael-e-tasavvuf yeh tera bayan ghalibTujhe ham wali samajhate Joh na badaakhwar hota.
It was never in my fate to meet my beloved.Even if more years of life was to me allocated, I would have been still awaiting the prize cherished.
If you think that I had been living on your promise, it is a lie.For, if I had faith in you, would not of joy I would die.
Woe betide, my friendship, that the friends give pious advice and sermons they deliver.I need someone on whose shoulders could I weep, who could allay my grief and my fears.
Whom should I tell that the night of sorrow is full of pangs.I would not have resented the death, if it comes only once.
Disgraced, as I was after my death, why didn’t I drown in a river or sea.Neither, there would have been a funeral, nor tomb erected for me.
The marvels of ethical problems and your statements full of meanings.I would have counted you, “Ghalib” amongst dearest friends of God; if only, you had not been a lover of drinks.

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