The season of spring, which left my gaze, was once beautiful; today, without the stain upon my heart, it is clad in black.

Mir Taqi Mir captures the devastating aftermath of loss. The poet says that the beautiful season of spring kept slipping from the view, and today, without that vibrant beauty, his heart (or liver) is draped in black stains. It's a profound meditation on how the departure of joy, the loss of love, or the fading of beauty leaves behind an irreversible stain of sorrow on the soul. It’s a deep, melancholic ache.