Here you will find the Poem Hai bas ki har ik unke ishaare of poet Ghalib Mirza Asadullah Khan
hai bas_ki har ik uNke ishaare meN nishaaN aur karte haiN mohabbat to guzarta hai gumaaN aur Yaa_Rab!, na vo samjheN haiN na samjheNge m'ri baat de aur dil uNko, jo na de mujhko zubaaN aur abruu se hai kya us nigeh-e-naaz ko, paiwaNd? hai tiir moqarrar, magar uski hai kamaaN aur tum shehr meN ho to hameN kya gham jab uTheNge le aayeNge bazaar se jaa_kar, dil_o_jaaN aur har_chaNd subuk_dast huye but_shikani meN ham haiN to abhi raah meN haiN saNg-e-giraaN aur hai khuuN-e-jigar josh meN dil khol ke rota hote jo kaii diida-e-khuuN ya na nishaaN aur martaa huN us aawaaz pe har_chaNd sar aR jaaye jallad ko lekin vo kahe jaayeN ki 'haaN aur!' logoNko hai khurshiid-e-jahaaN_taab ka dhoka har roz dikhaataa huN maiN ik daagh-e-nihaaN aur haiN aur_bhi duNiyaa meN sukhan_var bahot achchhe kahte haiN ki 'Ghalib' ka hai aNdaaz-e-bayaaN aur ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- although in her every indication, the aim is something else If she shows her affection(with me), then different suspicion arises oh Lord, 'they' have not understood, nor will [they] understand, my speech give 'them' another heart, if you don't give me a different tongue does that glance of coquetry have a connection with the eyebrow? it is certainly an arrow- perhaps it has a different bow if you're in the city, then what grief do I have? when we get up I will go and bring back from the bazaar a different heart and life although [I /we] became quick-handed / deft in idol-breaking If I am alive, then in my path there will be many heavy-stones the blood of the liver is in turmoil?or I would have wept to my heart's content if I had had a number of different pure-blood-scattering eyes I will die [of love] for that voice, although my head may fly off! but let her keep saying to the executioner,'Yes, more/another!' people are deceived about the world-{heating/burning} sun every day I show one different hidden scar/wound There are many good poets in this world. But it is said that Ghalib is in a league of his own.