Ghazal 27, Verse 3

Nazm:

That is, even if it's spring, so what? It's the red color of henna; in a few days it will fade away-- and then only the foot of autumn will make itself felt. (28)

== Nazm page 28

Bekhud Dihlavi:

He says, if spring is so transitory and fleeting, then what is spring anyway? That is, the spring season is the henna on the foot of autumn, which will vanish very quickly; and it can be compared to enjoyment of the world. The period of enjoyment is extremely short, and inner pain remains established for a lifetime. (56)

Josh:

He has used spring as a simile for enjoyment of the world, and fall for inner suffering. To call spring 'henna on the foot of autumn' is the limit of the flight of thought. What further meaning-creation can there be than this? (92)

FWP:

SETS == MIDPOINTS
SPRINGTIME: {13,2}

Metrically speaking, an i.zaafat after davaam is permissible but not required. Arshi doesn't have an i.zaafat there, so I take his as the preferred reading. But Hamid does, and I like that reading too (2c).

'Spring is henna on the foot of autumn'-- as Josh says, what could be more complexly meaningful, and also more beautiful? Even in English its loveliness comes through. Henna is brightly colored, changing from a kind of greenish when first applied to hands and feet, to a vivid red-orange color when fully dry. Henna is usually applied in ornate, lacy designs that exult in their own delicacy and extravagance, and of course it is a supremely festive symbol used for celebrations, especially weddings. It is also all too temporary-- within a week it has begun to fade, within another week or two it is gone. (For more on henna, see {18,4}.)

Obviously, these qualities are those of spring as well. The henna is gorgeous but vulnerable, just a thin little layer-- and as Nazm says, when it's gone 'only the foot of autumn will make itself felt'. The henna of spring is a brief, deceptive veneer of color and enjoyment. It's false advertising, inducing us to buy into a world full of bleakness and suffering-- an essentially autumnal world. There's no escape-- the assertion in line one, if accepted ('if this is so'), directly implies line two.

The force of the second line comes from the heavy weight of davaam , which can be any of three distinct parts of speech. It can be an adjective ('permanent') (2a), or an adverb ('permanently') (2b), or a noun ('permanence') (2c). In all of these senses, and with this radical power of mobility, it's the extreme opposite of the frail, thin, delicate layer of henna that is an emblem of the beauty of the world, a vivid and complexly beautiful design that's soon to be worn away. The henna of spring is there only briefly-- only long enough to seduce us into embracing (to our sorrow) a world that 'permanently' crushes us under its no-longer-hennaed foot.