Ghalib Sultan

Whether by predestination or free will
I remain afflicted; sometimes
I am a long-drawn sigh
And sometimes A trickling tear

I have nothing to do with the rosary
Or with the wine bowl
In a dream, I am as one
Whose hands have been cut off

Being most humble
I bear enmity to none
I am neither a fallen grain
Nor a streched-cut share

My value and my position
Are not what they should be
I am that Joseph
Who is sold to the first bidder