Khawaja Mir Dard is called the Imam of Sufi poetry in Urdu. Dard is a style poet. On some of his simple poems, Mir’s style is definitely deceptive, but if you look carefully, the style of both is completely different. In the poetry of pain, the element of contemplation is prominent, while Mir keeps thought subordinate to feeling, however, surrender in love and passion are common here and both slowly burn. There is no less virtual love here. Glimpses of the beloved while alive are found in his words.
A few of the accusations are on their own
We will do what we came for
It’s life or there’s a storm
We will die by the hands of this living
Shall we work with these gills, O Saba?
Come and go here and there
Friends saw all of the show
You stay happy and we go home
Oh, just don’t burn it, then know
When a myth comes upon him
I am a kind hearted friend
How many wounds have you heard?
We are like a candle in this world
They came till the end
Looking beyond you
Sheikh Sahib left the house and went outside
We can’t get out of you
He came and went everywhere
We were lonely where we came
Take it with you now
Like evil, foolish beings
We also went about our turn
It seems to be a maid, come on
When Tilak could only walk, Sagar walked
All these people know something
Where did they come from?
