S. R. Faruqi:

dareġh nahīñ hai = does not stop

Naziri and Bedil have versified the theme of the meager prey so finely [in Persian] that they could hardly be rivalled. Naziri:

'I am that prey that is not worthy of being killed,
I am ashamed before that person who is my Executioner.'

Bedil:

'I am such inferior goods that in my slaughter-place,
Instead of blood, sweat [from shame] dripped from the murderer's sword.'

Before Bedil's 'meaning-creation', even Naziri's 'mood' is eclipsed. But Mir has made a whole scene, and created something entirely new: that the beloved's sword does not stop in the face of anything whatsoever. From far-off places people eager for slaughter are gathering in troops. We are a meager prey, but since the beloved's sword does not stop, we have come 'on the hope'.

The ambiguity of ek ummīd is very excellent, because in it is also the suggestion that despite our meagerness we also have confidence in something on the basis of which the murderer's eye will fall on us. The style of speech is that of everyday conversation; on this basis, even more sharpness has been created.

The theme of the meager prey, Mir has composed in two other places, in different styles. In the second divan [{753,4}]:

asīr jarge meñ ho jāʾūñ maiñ to ho jāʾūñ
vagarnah qaṣd ho kis ko shikār-e lāġhar kā

[if I would become captured in the herd, then I would be so
otherwise, who seeks out a meager prey?]

From the sixth divan [{1913,5}]:

kunj meñ dām-gah ke hūñ shāyad
ṣaid-e lāġhar ko bhī shikār kare

[I am in the corner of the net-place-- perhaps
she might hunt down even/also a meager prey]

Both verses are good, but in the present verse the scene-setting, and the ardor of the prey, and the ambiguity of ek ummīd -- all these together lift it higher than the other two.

There's also the point that in the present verse the repetition of par [=but] and par [=on] is very fine. There's in any case the connection of a zila between par [=wing] and shikār , but let's consider this as well: we are obliged [by the meter] to read par with āʾe , and for a moment we are deceived into thinking it's parāʾe (meaning 'alien'). That is, the speaker feels himself to be alien. Consider this prose rendering: haiñ to shikār-e lāġhar , par ek ummīd ( hai ) -- ( afsos kih ham ) parāʾe haiñ . It's clear that this meaning is not real. But the trickery/complexity of unreal meanings too is part of the pleasure of a verse, because they generate tension. It's a fine verse.

[See also {584,8}; {1041,4}.]

FWP:

SETS
MOTIFS == SWORD
NAMES
TERMS == IHAM; THEME

On the source of these verses see {1853x,1}.

The beginning of the verse, with the clunky but rhythmically swingy rhyme of teġh dareġh , is also a treat.

SRF points out the 'misdirection' in the second line, when we are phonetically invited to hear par āʾe as parāʾe . This may not constitute a formal iham, but it's worth considering along those lines. For more on this question, see {178,1}.