miir kyā saade haiñ bīmār hue jis ke sabab
usī attār ke laḌke se davā lete haiñ
Meer is so simple: the very one who caused his illness is the reason he fell sick.
Yet he goes to that same apothecary’s boy to ask for a cure.
The couplet uses the metaphor of illness and medicine for love and its pain. Meer mocks his own naivety: he keeps turning for relief to the same source connected with his hurt. The “apothecary’s boy” hints at the beloved (or their circle) who both wounds and is expected to heal. The emotional core is ironic self-awareness mixed with helpless dependence.
mir kya sade hain bimar hue jis ke sabab
usi attar ke laDke se dawa lete hain
Meer is so simple: the very one who caused his illness is the reason he fell sick.
Yet he goes to that same apothecary’s boy to ask for a cure.
The couplet uses the metaphor of illness and medicine for love and its pain. Meer mocks his own naivety: he keeps turning for relief to the same source connected with his hurt. The “apothecary’s boy” hints at the beloved (or their circle) who both wounds and is expected to heal. The emotional core is ironic self-awareness mixed with helpless dependence.
jo lauñDā chhoḌ kar ranDī ko chāhe
vo kui āshiq nahīñ hai bul-havas hai
jo launDa chhoD kar ranDi ko chahe
wo kui aashiq nahin hai bul-hawas hai
kyā us ātish-bāz ke lauñDe kā itnā shauq miir
bah chalī hai dekh kar us ko tumhārī raal kuchh
Do you really have such a strong craving for that firework-performer’s young boy, Meer?
Just seeing him, has some of your drool started to flow?
Meer frames the couplet as a taunting question that exposes an unrestrained, bodily kind of attraction. The image of “drool” makes desire visible and almost humiliating, turning private longing into public embarrassment. Calling him the “firework-performer’s boy” adds a street-world, low-status setting, sharpening the satire. The emotional core is a mix of lust, ridicule, and shame at desire losing all self-control.
kya us aatish-baz ke launDe ka itna shauq mir
bah chali hai dekh kar us ko tumhaari ral kuchh
Do you really have such a strong craving for that firework-performer’s young boy, Meer?
Just seeing him, has some of your drool started to flow?
Meer frames the couplet as a taunting question that exposes an unrestrained, bodily kind of attraction. The image of “drool” makes desire visible and almost humiliating, turning private longing into public embarrassment. Calling him the “firework-performer’s boy” adds a street-world, low-status setting, sharpening the satire. The emotional core is a mix of lust, ridicule, and shame at desire losing all self-control.
husn thā terā bahut ālam-fareb
ḳhat ke aane par bhī ik aalam rahā
your beauty was deceptive and O! to such extent
even after you matured this wonder never went
Your beauty was so captivating that it could mislead the whole world.
Yet even when your letter arrived, the sense of distance remained.
Meer contrasts the beloved’s world-bewitching beauty with the lover’s inner reality. “Ālam” suggests both the world and a state of feeling: her charm creates a whole ‘world’ of illusion, but the letter cannot fully bridge separation. The emotional core is bittersweet—contact happens, yet longing and emptiness still persist.
husn tha tera bahut aalam-fareb
KHat ke aane par bhi ek aalam raha
your beauty was deceptive and O! to such extent
even after you matured this wonder never went
Your beauty was so captivating that it could mislead the whole world.
Yet even when your letter arrived, the sense of distance remained.
Meer contrasts the beloved’s world-bewitching beauty with the lover’s inner reality. “Ālam” suggests both the world and a state of feeling: her charm creates a whole ‘world’ of illusion, but the letter cannot fully bridge separation. The emotional core is bittersweet—contact happens, yet longing and emptiness still persist.
kaifiyyateñ attār ke lauñDe meñ bahut thiiñ
is nusḳhe kī koī na rahī haif davā yaad
The apothecary’s young assistant had many tricks, airs, and impressive “qualities.”
Yet, alas, no one remembered the very medicine of that prescription.
Meer Taqi Meer uses the apothecary-shop image to mock a world where showy “qualities” get noticed but the real cure is forgotten. The ‘attar’s boy’ stands for surface charm, talk, and performance, while the lost ‘dawa’ suggests true solution, wisdom, or sincerity slipping away. The emotional core is regret mixed with irony: much display, little actual healing.
kaifiyyaten attar ke launDe mein bahut thin
is nusKHe ki koi na rahi haif dawa yaad
The apothecary’s young assistant had many tricks, airs, and impressive “qualities.”
Yet, alas, no one remembered the very medicine of that prescription.
Meer Taqi Meer uses the apothecary-shop image to mock a world where showy “qualities” get noticed but the real cure is forgotten. The ‘attar’s boy’ stands for surface charm, talk, and performance, while the lost ‘dawa’ suggests true solution, wisdom, or sincerity slipping away. The emotional core is regret mixed with irony: much display, little actual healing.
bāham huā kareñ haiñ din raat nīche uupar
ye narm-shāne lauñDe haiñ maḳhmal-e-do-ḳhvābā
Day and night, we keep being together, turning over and over—up and down.
These soft-shouldered boys are like velvet in a double bed.
The couplet uses plain, bodily imagery to depict continual intimacy. “Up and down” suggests restless physical movement, while “velvet” evokes softness, luxury, and tactile pleasure. The emotional core is unabashed desire, framing the beloved’s body as comfort and indulgence. The night-and-day span heightens the sense of obsessive, ongoing longing.
baham hua karen hain din raat niche upar
ye narm-shane launDe hain maKHmal-e-do-KHwaba
Day and night, we keep being together, turning over and over—up and down.
These soft-shouldered boys are like velvet in a double bed.
The couplet uses plain, bodily imagery to depict continual intimacy. “Up and down” suggests restless physical movement, while “velvet” evokes softness, luxury, and tactile pleasure. The emotional core is unabashed desire, framing the beloved’s body as comfort and indulgence. The night-and-day span heightens the sense of obsessive, ongoing longing.
gar Thahre malak aage unhoñ ke to ajab hai
phirte haiñ paḌe dillī ke lauñDe jo parī se
If even angels were to stop before them, it would be no surprise.
For Delhi’s boys roam about as if they themselves are fairies.
Meer Taqi Meer paints an exaggerated, playful picture of beauty and swagger: the beloved (or the city’s youth) carry such charm that even angels would pause in awe. By calling Delhi’s boys “fairy-like,” he mocks and admires their fashionable airs at once. The emotional core is astonishment mixed with teasing—beauty so overwhelming it upends the usual hierarchy of angel and human.
gar Thahre malak aage unhon ke to ajab hai
phirte hain paDe dilli ke launDe jo pari se
If even angels were to stop before them, it would be no surprise.
For Delhi’s boys roam about as if they themselves are fairies.
Meer Taqi Meer paints an exaggerated, playful picture of beauty and swagger: the beloved (or the city’s youth) carry such charm that even angels would pause in awe. By calling Delhi’s boys “fairy-like,” he mocks and admires their fashionable airs at once. The emotional core is astonishment mixed with teasing—beauty so overwhelming it upends the usual hierarchy of angel and human.
dhaulā chuke the mil kar kal lauñDe mai-kade ke
par sargirāñ ho vaa.iz jaatā rahā saTak kar
Yesterday, the winehouse boys had already beaten and thrown someone out together.
Yet the preacher kept leaving, slipping away, as if preoccupied and unconcerned.
The couplet uses sharp irony: the tavern’s rough youngsters openly do violence, but the preacher—who should condemn wrongdoing—quietly slips away. “Sṭak kar” suggests sneaking off to avoid being implicated, exposing moral cowardice or complicity. The emotional core is satire on religious posturing and selective outrage, where public piety hides convenient silence.
dhaula chuke the mil kar kal launDe mai-kade ke
par sargiran ho waiz jata raha saTak kar
Yesterday, the winehouse boys had already beaten and thrown someone out together.
Yet the preacher kept leaving, slipping away, as if preoccupied and unconcerned.
The couplet uses sharp irony: the tavern’s rough youngsters openly do violence, but the preacher—who should condemn wrongdoing—quietly slips away. “Sṭak kar” suggests sneaking off to avoid being implicated, exposing moral cowardice or complicity. The emotional core is satire on religious posturing and selective outrage, where public piety hides convenient silence.
miir us qaazī ke lauñDe ke liye āḳhir muā
sab ko qaziya us ke jiine kā thā baare chuk gayā
Meer, in the end, died because of that qazi’s servant-boy (i.e., because of that man’s affair).
Everyone’s dispute was about his being alive; once he died, the matter was settled.
The couplet is bitterly ironic: a person becomes the center of a “case” while he lives, as if his very existence is a problem to be argued and judged. When death arrives, the noise of accusations and proceedings ends automatically—death acts like a final verdict. Meer conveys the cruelty of social judgment and the grim relief that comes only when life is extinguished.
mir us qazi ke launDe ke liye aaKHir mua
sab ko qaziya us ke jine ka tha bare chuk gaya
Meer, in the end, died because of that qazi’s servant-boy (i.e., because of that man’s affair).
Everyone’s dispute was about his being alive; once he died, the matter was settled.
The couplet is bitterly ironic: a person becomes the center of a “case” while he lives, as if his very existence is a problem to be argued and judged. When death arrives, the noise of accusations and proceedings ends automatically—death acts like a final verdict. Meer conveys the cruelty of social judgment and the grim relief that comes only when life is extinguished.
amrad-parast hai to gulistāñ kī sair kar
har naunihāl rashk hai yaañ ḳhurd-sāl kā
amrad-parast hai to gulistan ki sair kar
har naunihaal rashk hai yan KHurd-sal ka
yaañ talak ḳhush huuñ amārid se ki ai rabb-e-karīm
kaash de huur ke badle bhī tū ġhilmāñ mujh ko
yan talak KHush hun amarid se ki ai rabb-e-karim
kash de hur ke badle bhi tu ghilman mujh ko
liyā maiñ bosa ba-zor us sipāhī-zāde kā
azīzo ab bhī mirī kuchh dilāvarī dekhī
liya main bosa ba-zor us sipahi-zade ka
azizo ab bhi meri kuchh dilawari dekhi
haath chaḌh jā.iyo ai shaiḳh kisū ke na kabhū
lauñDe sab tere ḳharīdār haiñ maiḳhāne ke
O Sheikh, never let yourself be caught or overpowered by anyone’s hand.
All those boys from the tavern are your buyers—they will easily get you.
Meer Taqi Meer uses biting satire to warn the outwardly pious “Sheikh” about his hidden vulnerability. “Hand being put on someone” suggests getting trapped, controlled, or exposed. The “boys of the tavern” as his “buyers” implies he is already for sale—his desires make him purchasable and manipulable. The couplet mocks hypocrisy: moral preaching collapses when temptation arrives.
hath chaDh jaiyo ai shaiKH kisu ke na kabhu
launDe sab tere KHaridar hain maiKHane ke
O Sheikh, never let yourself be caught or overpowered by anyone’s hand.
All those boys from the tavern are your buyers—they will easily get you.
Meer Taqi Meer uses biting satire to warn the outwardly pious “Sheikh” about his hidden vulnerability. “Hand being put on someone” suggests getting trapped, controlled, or exposed. The “boys of the tavern” as his “buyers” implies he is already for sale—his desires make him purchasable and manipulable. The couplet mocks hypocrisy: moral preaching collapses when temptation arrives.
