Whose vibrant pen, a beggar's plea, it seems?
A vibrant pen.
Each painted form, in paper garments gleams.
In paper shrouds.
The loneliness, a bitter, hollow cave,
A lonely cave.
To bring the evening, dawn must gently wave,
A river's flow.
The untamed yearning, see its breathless flight,
Its breathless flight.
The new-forged blade, its life beyond the light,
Beyond the blade.
Though captive, Ghalib, fire burns beneath my feet,
Beneath my feet.
Each hair, a spark, the chain's encircling heat.
The chain's embrace.
Whose vibrant pen, a beggar's plea, it seems?
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