It was the praise of such a fairy faced one, and that too in the narration of a magical speaker like me,
The person whom I made my close confident in praising the beloved's beauty, after hearing it he became my rival.
(Again that sense of humour and subtle insistence on his own greatness. It is not just the beauty, it is that fine power of narration of Ghalib which brings him to grief.)
(This is among Ghalib's special characteristic.)
The beloved has drunk a great deal of wine in the gathering of others so that she would have a chance to act playfully without formality,
And the lover for his own peace of mind and to maintain his own dignity, has come up with the excuse that the beloved only wants to test her wine drinking capacity, nothing more than this.
(Why did she decide to test herself while I was present.)
(The lover is so determined not to see the beloved as favouring the other that he will go to any chance.)
If only my house(Which in reality is the Heavens itself)was somewhat to one side of Heavens, and I could make a viewing site in the Heavens and see my place,
But alas, the house is situated on such a height that there is no place higher.
(We are entirely ignorant of our true reality and essence. How philosophical too is the reason for that ignorance.)
(Our spirit flies beyond the heavens. We are already strolled around incorporeality. There is no viewing site left to see. Now the ardor for the revealing of the secrets of true reality is empty.)
(Our knowledge is incomplete without a better sense of life here.)
However much he may abuse me, I will keep accepting it laughingly, and I will make it clear that he is my old friend,
It was excellent that the beloved's gatekeeper became my friend.
(That for ages this has been our behaviour.)
(Being a watchman, naturally he will be arrogant and abusive and naturally, I will be humble and submissive before him, and will flatter and conciliate him in every possible way.)
How long should I continue writing the pain of the heart in letters,
Why do not I go and show her my wounded fingers and blood-dripping pen as proof of my letter writing?
(In letters, this story will never be finished.)
(I am tired of writing, I have been doing it a long time, and now I want to supplement it by going to her directly and having the consolation of seeing her.)
You did not need to change the doorsill stone because of the disgrace of my prostrations,
The stone of your doorsill would eventually have worn away by the friction of my forehead during my countless prostrations.
(He is even trying to save her trouble, helpfully volunteering the information that she need not take so much trouble in the future. It would have been anyway worn away by performing so many prostrations.)
My purpose was that when the enemy himself joins me in the complaints of beloved,
He would not go and mention my complaints to the beloved.
(In front of the rival I complained about the beloved in such a way that he too began and support me. And this is so that he would not go and make snide remarks about me.)
(I have made that fool a sharer in complaints about the beloved.)
What kind of wise was I, and in what skill I was incomparable,
"Ghalib", without reason the sky became my enemy.
(The excellence with which he had made his wisdom and skill manifest, it is impossible to praise it enough.)
(Wisdom and skill are always the cause of the enmity of the sky.)
(The sky becomes jealous and sends down disasters on the too-lofty figures.)