The parting's echo, where does it reside?
The nights, the days, the years, where do they hide?
Who now has time for passion's fiery trade?
Where is the joy to beauty's form, displayed?
The heart, the mind, no longer what they were,
The frenzy for the mole, the written lure,
The thought of one, once vibrant, clear, and bright,
Where is that splendor of imagined light?
It's not so easy, tears of blood to weep,
Where is the strength, the heart's deep secrets keep?
From love's casino, I have been cast out,
And to return, where is the coin about?
I waste my mind on worldly, vain desire,
Where am I, and where this weighty pyre?
My powers fail, O Ghalib, overcome,
Where is that balance, where have they become?
No hesitation in a kiss she'd show,
But strength to ask, alas, I do not know.
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