nairang : 'Fascination, bewitching arts, wiles; magic, sorcery; deception; — deceit; trick; pretence; evasion; — freak; — a wonderful performance, a miracle; anything new or strange'. (Platts p.1166)
In the wound of the rose is the mood of the abstinence of the rose, since it has a similitude with a smile. A smile is a symbol of joy and gladness; and the liver-wound is the result of the wildness of the heart. Enough-- only/emphatically the wildness of the heart is declared to be the heir of joy and gladness (the world/condition of the marvel/trick of joy).
Asad, the wildness of the heart is, for me, a colorful world of joy. In the lips of the liver-wound is the mood of the smile of the rose. That is, for me, rest/comfort is in pain and sorrow.
SETS
JIGAR: {2,1}
SMILE/LAUGHTER: {27,4}
For more on Ghalib's unpublished verses, see the discussion in {4,8x}. See also the overview index.
The word nairang is ideally suited to the kind of use Ghalib makes of it. For it's deeply, incurably ambiguous (see the definition above). Is the condition of the 'wildness of the heart' a 'miracle, wonderful performance' of joy, or a 'sorcery, bewitchment' of joy, or a 'deceit, trick' of joy?
Then of course the slipperiness of the i.zaafat leaves open the exact meaning of that little 'of'. Is the 'marvel' one that is created by joy, or one that itself is joy? Or is it a 'trick, deceit' that only appears to be joy? We can only wait in suspense (under mushairah performance conditions) to hear the second line.
The second line, as so often, starts afresh with its own imagery. The 'mouth' of a wound is an obvious metaphor, in English as in Urdu; for the classic divan example see {214,1}. In the present verse the wound also has 'lips'; thus it is able to contain the 'hidden' smile of the rose. The rose's 'smile' or 'laughter' is its opening out into full bloom-- which also presages its death. For the ultimate verse on this theme, see Mir's M{6,2}.
Thus the verse doesn't resolve its ambiguities, but subsumes them within a greater one: the fundamental ghazal equation of pain and pleasure. The mortally wounded lover cherishes his 'smiling' wound-mouth; the doomed rose 'smiles' into the face of its fate. Are those smiles cheerful, or ironic, or bleak, or detached, or transcendent? Is joy a miracle, or a trick? As usual, we're left to decide for ourselves.
Asi:
Oh Asad, don't call the wildness of my heart 'wildness'. Rather, this is a world/condition of the marvel of joy; and in my liver-wound the smile of the rose is hidden. That is, my liver-wound is the smile of the rose.
== Asi, p. 307