Roʾeṅge ham hazār bār, koʾī hameṅ satāye kyūñ
Dair nahīñ, haram nahīñ, dar nahīñ, āstāñ nahīñ
Baiṭhe haiṅ rāh-guzar pe ham, ġhair hameṅ uṭhāye kyūñ
Jab vo jamāl-e-dil-afroz, sūrat-e-mahr-e-nīm-roz
Āp hī ho naẓārā-sōz, parde meṅ muñh chhupāye kyūñ
Dashna-e-ġhamzah jāñ-sitāñ, nāvak-e-nāz bepanhāh
Terā hī ʿaks-e-rukh sahī, sāmne tere āye kyūñ
Qaid-e-ḥayāt-o-band-e-ġham asl meṅ donoṅ ek haiṅ
Maut se pahle ādmī ġham se najāt pāye kyūñ
Ḥusn aur us pe ḥusn-e-zan, rah gaʾī bulahawas kī sharm
Apne pe iʿtimād hai, ġhair ko āzmāye kyūñ
Vāṅ vo ġhurūr-e-ʿizz-o-nāz, yāṅ ye ḥijāb-e-pās-waẓʿ
Rāh meṅ ham mileṅ kahāṅ, bazm meṅ vo bulāyeṅ kyūñ
Hāṅ vo nahīñ Khudā-parast, jāʾo vo bevafā sahī
Jis ko ho dīn-o-dil ʿazīz, us kī galī meṅ jāye kyūñ
“Ghālib”-e-khasta ke baġhair kaun se kām band haiṅ
Roʾiye zār-zār kyā, kījiye hāʾe-hāʾe kyūñ
— Mirzā Ghālib
रोएँगे हम हज़ार बार, कोई हमें सताए क्यों
दैर नहीं, हरम नहीं, दर नहीं, आस्ताँ नहीं
बैठे हैं राह-गुज़र पे हम, ग़ैर हमें उठाए क्यों
जब वो जमाल-ए-दिल-अफ़रोज़, सूरत-ए-महर-ए-नीम-रोज़
आप ही हो नज़ारा-सोज़, पर्दे में मुँह छुपाए क्यों
दश्ना-ए-ग़मज़ा जाँ-सिताँ, नावक-ए-नाज़ बेपनाह
तेरा ही अक्स-ए-रुख़ सही, सामने तेरे आए क्यों
क़ैद-ए-हयात-ओ-बंद-ए-ग़म अस्ल में दोनों एक हैं
मौत से पहले आदमी, ग़म से निजात पाए क्यों
हुस्न और उस पे हुस्न-ए-ज़न, रह गई बुलहवस की शर्म
अपने पे एतिमाद है, ग़ैर को आज़माए क्यों
वाँ वो ग़ुरूर-ए-इज़्ज़-ओ-नाज़, याँ ये हिजाब-ए-पास-वज़्अ
राह में हम मिलें कहाँ, बज़्म में वो बुलाएँ क्यों
हाँ वो नहीं ख़ुदा-परस्त, जाओ वो बेवफ़ा सही
जिस को हो दीन-ओ-दिल अज़ीज़, उसकी गली में जाए क्यों
“ग़ालिब”-ए-ख़स्ता के बग़ैर कौन से काम बंद हैं
रोइए ज़ार-ज़ार क्या, कीजिए हाय-हाय क्यों
— मिर्ज़ा ग़ालिब
روئیں گے ہَم ہَزار بار، کوئی ہَمیں سَتائے کِیُوں
دَیر نہیں، حَرَم نہیں، دَر نہیں، آستاں نہیں
بَیٹھے ہیں راہِ گُذَر پہ ہَم، غَیر ہَمیں اُٹھائے کِیُوں
جَب وَہ جَمالِ دِل اَفروز، صُورتِ مَہرِ نِیم روز
آپ ہی ہو نَظارہ سوز، پَردے میں مُنہ چُھپائے کِیُوں
دَشنۂ غَمزہ جاں سِتاں، ناوَکِ ناز بے پَناہ
تیرا ہی عَکسِ رُخ سَہی، سامنے تیرے آئے کِیُوں
قَیدِ حَیاتُ و بَندِ غَم اَصل میں دونوں ایک ہیں
مَوت سے پہلے آدَمی، غَم سے نِجات پائے کِیُوں
حُسن اور اُس پہ حُسنِ ظَن، رَہ گئی بُلْہَوَس کی شَرم
اَپنے پہ اِعتِماد ہے، غَیر کو آزْمائے کِیُوں
واں وہ غُرورِ عِزُّ و ناز، یاں یہ حِجابِ پاسِ وَضع
راہ میں ہَم مِلیں کہاں، بَزم میں وہ بُلائیں کِیُوں
ہاں وہ نہیں خُدا پَرَست، جاؤ وہ بے وَفا سَہی
جِس کو ہو دینُ و دِل عَزیز، اُس کی گَلی میں جائے کِیُوں
غالبؔ خَستہ کے بغیر کون سے کام بَند ہیں
روئیے زار زار کِیا، کیجئے ہائے ہائے کِیُوں
— مِرزَا غالب
Word meanings & references
- Sang — stone; symbol of emotional hardness or insensitivity
- Khisht — brick; reinforces the image of lifeless, unfeeling matter
- Dair — temple; represents non-Islamic sacred space
- Haram — mosque; Islamic sacred space
- Āstāñ — doorstep or threshold; symbol of refuge or belonging
- Jamāl-e-dil-afroz — a beauty that illuminates the heart
- Mahr-e-nīm-roz — the midday sun; peak brightness and intensity
- Naẓārā-sōz — a sight so intense it burns the beholder
- Dashna — dagger; a metaphor for the lethal power of a glance
- Ġhamzah — amorous or playful glance
- Nāvak — arrow; often used for pride or coquetry in love poetry
- Qaid-e-ḥayāt — prison of life; existence as confinement
- Band-e-ġham — chains of sorrow
- Najāt — liberation or freedom
- Ḥusn-e-zan — good opinion or favorable judgment
- Bulahawas — unchecked or excessive desire
- Iʿtimād — trust or confidence
- Ġhurūr-e-ʿizz-o-nāz — pride rooted in dignity and grace
- Ḥijāb-e-pās-waẓʿ — modest restraint born of respect
- Khudā-parast — worshipper of God; religiously devout
- Dīn-o-dil — faith and heart; belief and love
- Khasta — wounded, broken, or afflicted
- Zār-zār — bitterly, uncontrollably; phūṭ-phūṭ kar rōnā
Poem Summary
In this ghazal, Mirza Ghalib reflects on the nature of the human heart, love, suffering, and existence itself. He begins by reminding us that the heart is not made of stone or brick; it is meant to feel pain, so sorrow and tears are natural responses to hurt. Through repeated rhetorical questions, Ghalib challenges the idea that one should remain unaffected by emotional suffering.
The poet then presents himself as a restless wanderer, belonging neither to temple nor mosque, gate nor doorstep. This expresses both spiritual homelessness and social alienation, suggesting that the lover exists outside conventional boundaries of religion, society, and respectability. Love places him on the road, exposed and vulnerable, where rejection and humiliation are unavoidable.
When Ghalib describes the beloved, he portrays a beauty so intense that it rivals the midday sun. Such beauty, he argues, cannot remain hidden behind veils, for its very nature is to reveal itself and overwhelm the viewer. The beloved’s glances are compared to daggers and arrows — playful yet deadly — emphasizing how love wounds without intending to kill, yet leaves the lover powerless.
A central philosophical idea of the poem is that life itself is a prison, and sorrow is its chain. Ghalib suggests that as long as a person is alive, freedom from grief is impossible. True release from suffering does not come before death, making sorrow an inseparable companion of existence.
The poem also touches on pride, modesty, and misunderstanding. The beloved’s dignity and the lover’s self-respect keep them apart, preventing open meetings or invitations. Ghalib questions why one should seek love where faith and the heart are not valued, subtly criticizing emotional hypocrisy and faithlessness.
In the final verse, Ghalib turns inward with characteristic irony. He asks why excessive mourning is necessary when life’s tasks continue regardless of personal suffering. This self-address reflects Ghalib’s stoic wit — acknowledging pain, yet refusing to let despair render him completely helpless.
