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yaa;N ke saped-o-siyah me;N ham ko
da;xl jo hai so itnaa hai
raat ko ro ro .sub;h kiyaa yaa din ko juu;N-tuu;N shaam kiyaa
1) in the white-and-black of here, the amount of access/authority
we have is this much:
2) weeping and weeping, we made night into morning; or we somehow turned
the day into evening
da;xl : 'Entrance, ingress, admission, access; entering (upon), taking possession (of), possession, occupation, occupancy; making way or progress (in a study), progress, proficiency, knowledge; reach, grasp, scope, comprehension; possibility; capacity, competency; influence, power, authority, jurisdiction'. (Platts p.507)
FWP:
SETS
MOTIFS == NIGHT/DAY
NAMES
TERMSWhat's really smashing about this verse is the total opposition between the first, extremely humble, meaning, and the second, extremely arrogant one.
It's an obvious reading to take the verse as a lament of powerlessness: alas, we have no power in the affairs of this world, all we can do is weep and suffer and somehow manage to struggle through each interminable day. It suits the conventional image of Mir as a weepy poet of suffering and helplessness and pathos, and it's a perfectly possible interpretation.
But it's equally possible to stand that reading on its head. For it's worth noting that the first line doesn't contain any word or particle to convey the idea of 'only' this much power. So the verse can be read as a matter-of-fact description: we have this much power, namely, that our tears turn night into day, and then we are able to turn day into night. In short, our suffering is what keeps the world going, it has a mystical or cosmic dimension of power. (For a Ghalibian example of this kind of cosmic power, see G{62,8}.)
SRF's idea that the speaker wants more power seems to me to be an extrapolation; I don't see that implication emerging directly from the verse.