S. R. Faruqi:

This verse too [like {129,2}] recalls Shakespeare ('Macbeth', Act V, Scene 2):

Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies:
Some say he's mad; others that lesser hate him
Do call it valiant fury: but, for certain,
He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause
Within the belt of rule.

The lover's madness is a commonplace, but the beloved's madness, and that too on the basis of too much blood-shedding, is a thing to agitate the heart and distract the mind. The beloved normally has an ardor for slaughter in any case, but she never loses her own senses over it; rather, it's those who behold her who lose their wits and their minds.

The beloved is a picture of self-possession or carefreeness-- if she would become mad, then what a Doomsday would be created! It's obvious that, as in the case of 'Macbeth', on her road of madness there will be no reining in by consciousness or by law. The image of a beautiful one who is mad, but has the qualities of a beloved, is truly quite terrifying.

Then there's also the point that the speaker has no sorrow for those who are dying, nor does he have any thought of preventing more deaths in the future. His only thought is to avoid the danger that the beloved might become mad; for this reason she ought to refrain from further slaughter. Mir has composed a fine verse.

FWP:

SETS
MOTIFS == MADNESS
NAMES
TERMS

With regard to that last point, SRF might well have added that the speaker isn't even trying to stop the slaughter entirely. Rather, he's only trying to slow the beloved down: from now on she should do not zero slaughter but 'less' [kam] slaughter. And the reason he gives is also a suitably mad and bloodthirsty one: that the slain already lie around in heaps (and rhyming heaps, at that-- pushte made of kushte ). The heaps are already so huge and long-established that they seem to form features of the landscape-- 'embankments' or 'mounds' or 'hills' (see the definition above). Perhaps there is now a shortage of space, or some other practical inconvenience (though, in the ghazal world, definitely not the terrible stench of rotting flesh).

So it's not as though the beloved hasn't had her fun, or doesn't have enough slaughtered victims to contemplate. She must only be careful not to become infected with the same contagion that brought her lovers to their doom: she mustn't go mad. But of course it seems quite possible that, like Macbeth, she's mad already.