na thā kuchh to ḳhudā thā kuchh na hotā to ḳhudā hotā
Duboyā mujh ko hone ne na hotā maiñ to kyā hotā
In nothingness God was there, if naught he would persist
Existence has sunk me, what loss, if I did’nt exist
huā jab ġham se yuuñ be-his to ġham kyā sar ke kaTne kā
na hotā gar judā tan se to zaanū par dharā hotā
When so burdenened, why the sorrow, of losing one’s head
If it had not been severed, would be, hanging low instead
huī muddat ki ‘ġhālib’ mar gayā par yaad aatā hai
vo har ik baat par kahnā ki yuuñ hotā to kyā hotā
Though ages he’s been dead Gaalib is, still thought of today
At every trice, to ask what would be, if it were this way
