پشت پا ماری بسکہ دنیا پر Pusht-e-pa maari baski duniya par

About this ghazal

The poet has kicked the world away so often, Mir begins, that his own foot is covered in wounds. The sun still sinks and rises restlessly, as if it once saw the beloved by the river. A heart full of blood was wine enough, so he never longed for the cup; in this world, a city of graves, seven veils hang over even the seeing eye. His time for pleasure passed with misfortune falling on every wish, and blood dripped from the vine trellis as hail broke the wine flask. 2 couplets of the original are not included here.