Do not ask how the night of separation passed, for every stream (of my tears) was like a drawn sword against my life.

This profound couplet by Mir Taqi Mir captures the excruciating agony of separation (Hijr). The poet isn't asking about the *cause* of the pain, but the *manner* in which the night passed. He suggests that the pain was so pervasive, so deeply woven into his existence, that even the natural flow of sorrow—the 'nala' (stream)—felt like a constantly drawn, deadly sword against his soul. It speaks to a depth of anguish that transcends mere sadness; it is a physical wound.