(27 December 1797 – 15 February 1869 / Agra / British India)

Naqsh Faryadi

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You sir, are a fantastic, amazingly magical poet. Wow. I’m savouring every word. Thank you
Against whose playful writing are the words complainants? Made of paper is the attire of the countenance of every image. Inquire not of my fore bearance to the incessant hammering in the loneliness. Turning night into day is like unearthing a channel of milk Worth seeing is the spirit of my uncontrollable desire, Causing the edge of the sword to unfurl from its sheath No matter how awareness spreads its nets of hearing, The meaning is the nonexistent bird in the style of my expression. Whereas, even in bondage, there is fire under my feet, Ghalib, The chains that bind me are merely curls of singed hair. Translated by: Dr Sarfaraz K. Niazi
जज़बह-ए बे-इख़तियार-ए शौक़ देखा चाहिये सीनह-ए शमशीर से बाहर है दम शमशीर का
Please post the sher here