mirza ghalib-poet of the revolution

Hain aur bhi duniya mein sukhanwar bahut acche par kehte hain ke ghalib ka hai andaaz e bayaan kuch aur
poets there are many but ghalib remains unsurpassed.



Na tha kuchh to khudaa tha, kuchh naa hota to khudaa hota,
Dubayaa mujhko honay ne, na hota main toh kya hota ?
Hua jab ghamm say yoon behiss to ghamm kya sarr kay katnay ka,
Na hota gar juda tann say to zanoo par dharaa hota,
Huye muddat key ghalib marr gaya par yaad aata hai,
Har ek baat par kahnaa key yun hota to kya hota 

To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? 

Hathoon key lakiroon pay matt jaa ae Ghalib,
Naseeb unkay bhi hotay hain jinkaay haath nahi hotay 

be the creator of your own fate



Kaiday-hayaat, banday-gham asal may dono eik hain,
Maut say pahlay aadmey gham say nigaat paye kyun?

being and nothingness are the two faces of the same truth


Hazaroon khwaheeshen aise ki har khwahesh pay dum nikale,
Bahhut nikale meray armaan lekin phirr bhi kam nikale 

the brilliant atman is essentially a dreamer


Nuktaa chi hai gam e dil, key sunayaa na banay,
Kya baat banay wahan, jahan baat banyay na banay,
Ishq par zorr nahi hai yeh woh attissh Ghalib,
Jo lagaye na lagay bhujhaye na banay 

If music be the food of love, play on;
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.
That strain again! it had a dying fall:
O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound,
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing and giving odour! Enough; no more:
'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
O spirit of love! how quick and fresh art thou,
That, notwithstanding thy capacity
Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,
Of what validity and pitch soe'er,
But falls into abatement and low price,
Even in a minute: so full of shapes is fancy
That it alone is high fantastical.