far:t-e giryah se hu))aa miir tabaah apnaa jahaaz
ta;xtah paare ga))e kyaa jaanuu;N kidhar paanii me;N

1) from an excess/extravagance of weeping, Mir, my boat became destroyed
2) the planks, overthrown/broken, went-- how would I know which way?-- in the water



far:t : 'Excess, extravagance, exorbitance; exceeding degree; superfluity; abundance'. (Platts p.779)


paa;Rnaa (with paarnaa as a variant): 'To let fall, cause to fall, to knock or throw down; to kill'. (Platts p.217)

S. R. Faruqi:

We've already had some discussion about the imagery of the destructiveness and turbulence of the sea in Mir's poetry-- see:


This verse too is of that same kind, one which shows an uncommon feeling for the breadth and power of the sea. Atish has, as usual, taken direct advantage of Mir's verse:

ta;xtah paarah kii :tara;h se hai dil aatish tabaah
be-qaraarii la;hjah-e daryaa-e :tuufaa;N-;xez hai

[like a fallen plank, Atish, is the heart destroyed
restlessness is the cadence of the typhoon-creating sea]

In addition to the present verse, Atish has also made use of this verse from Mir's fifth divan [{1658,5}]:

mauj-zanii hai miir falak tak har la;hjah hai :tuufaa;N-zaa
sar-taa-sar hai talaa:tum jis kaa vuh a((:zam daryaa hai ((ishq

[there is wave-crashing, Mir, up to the sky; at every moment it is typhoon-creating
in which there is turmoil from end to end-- that great sea is passion]

But it's obvious that simply by collecting words together, the task is not accomplished-- not until the words would be made alive on the level of meaning. In Mir's verses, the words ta;xtah paare and la;hjah have been situated at a high level of meaning, and in Atish's verse these same words are in a superficial and conventional situation. Then, in Mir's present verse, the rhetorical question in the second line is devastating.

Jur'at doesn't have an Atish-like attempt at loftiness. But Atish's attempts at loftiness usually remain unsuccessful, and he falls to the ground with a thud. In many of his verses there's a great deal of pomp and circumstance, but if you look carefully then you realize that the idea wasn't worth mentioning. Jur'at's boat doesn't go far from the shore, but it also doesn't sink. Jur'at says his light and trifling things with great clarity and success. Thus he has a verse:

aise daryaa me;N bah'h chale hai;N kih aah
jis me;N ;Taapuu nahii;N hai naa))o nahii;N

[we've floated away in such a sea-- ah!
in which there's not an island, not a boat]

In Mir's verse, there are more aspects of meaning as well. He has made the boat a metaphor for the heart. In this regard, to use 'fallen planks' as a metaphor for the pieces of the heart broken by griefs, is extremely superb. Then, along with the tears, parts of the heart too float away, and vanish like the tears. Thus the destruction of the boat of the heart, and its planks' breaking away and disappearing toward unknown destinations, has a splendid 'affinity'.

Zafar Iqbal has taken this latter aspect, and composed a good verse:

dil kaa patah sirishk-e musalsal se puuchhiye
aa;xir vuh be-va:tan bhii usii kaaravaa;N me;N thaa

[the whereabouts of the heart, ask from the continuous tears
after all, that homeless one too was in the very same caravan]

The image of a ta;xtah paarah Mir has versified in the first divan too, but not with such excellence [{260,5}]:

nah gayaa miir apnii kishtii se
ek bhii ta;xtah paarah sa;hil tak

[there didn't go, Mir, from my boat
even one fallen plank, to the shore]

Here the meaningfulness is nevertheless greater than in Atish's verse. In the following verse from the second divan, by means of the sea Mir presents his yearning in an absolutely new style;


This verse will be discussed in its place. For the present, the final point to be made is that Talib Amuli too has very well versified [in Persian] the image of a ta;xtah paarah :

'All the hundred fallen planks of my heart are under my arm,
I am the kind of sea such that the dryness of my lips is my shore.'

Since the theme of Mir's verse has a rough similarity to Talib Amuli's theme, it's possible that Talib's verse might have been before Mir's eyes [when he composed his own verse].

[See also {552,9}.]



The speaker has been in his own boat, but he isn't there any longer. The boat has fallen apart, its planks have floated off in all directions-- the speaker can't possibly keep track of them. They are long gone-- 'in the water'. Of course, we automatically think of the water of the deep, turbulent sea, and the many ways in which it could cause a shipwreck. But the first line has made it clear that the speaker has generated his own salt water and caused his own shipwreck: he has wept so excessively or extravagantly that he himself has caused his boat to disintegrate and its planks to float away to parts unknown.

The speaker is reporting past events-- but from what vantage point? Even though his boat is utterly lost, he doesn't seem to have drowned. But neither does he have any power to rectify the situation: he rejects the very possibility that he could even know in which direction(s) the planks of his boat have gone. Perhaps he's just drifting along in the flood of tears and ocean waves.