Mirza Ghalib was the one of the greatest Urdu poet from 19th century. I translated this poem for a school project.
I look at the joys of this world, as I look at the dust.
Crying used to give me pleasure but now my eyes have gone dry.
When I am dead, wind might take my dust to my destination.
Because now I have no more strength to continue.
For whom are these preparations of welcome, who is this lover from the heaven?
All I see is flowers, and nothing else.
My love has left me capable of nothing.
Now I just wish to live quietly somewhere.
Asad, my poetry is for times past.
It is useless to write, when no one understands.