Insaaf-e-zamana ki Mujhe di Jaye iJazat
main to wo hun, jo k apni b Himayat nahi karta
Tum apnay khayaloon ko Mujhe sonp k dekho
Hur Shakhs imanat main khayanat nahi karta
A poet is an unhappy being whose heart is torn by secret sufferings, but whose lips are so strangely formed that when the sighs and the cries escape them, they sound like beautiful music... and then people crowd about the poet and say to him: "Sing for us soon again;" that is as much as to say, "May new sufferings torment your soul." by Soren Kierkegaard
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