It is neither the eye of the lover nor the tavern of the sky; rather, it is something that every morning offers a cup of blood with unsteady hands to its own guest.

This profound couplet speaks to the treacherous nature of love. The poet says that the beloved's gaze (or tears) is not like the clear, beautiful sky, nor is it delicate. Why? Because every morning, it bestows a cup of blood upon its lover. It’s a beautiful complaint—the beloved’s presence is intoxicating, yet fatally painful. Mir Taqi Mir masterfully captures the idea that the deepest love often comes with the greatest suffering.