On the possibilities of , see 101,1 . On the phrase , see 112,4 . As in the previous verse, 92,2 , , 'path', is used in a context of extreme abstractness. This seems to be a pattern: for more examples, see 9,4 . The phrase is reminiscent of 10,12 . I've interpreted as an inverted form of , 'has remained going [away]'. Another way to do it would be , 'in a state of having remained, habitually goes [away]'. In either case, this verb provides an excellent pivot around which the verse turns. Its paradoxicalness goes well with the 'relish of trouble' or 'pleasure of pain' in the first line. Since the 'pleasure of pain' is complex and contradictory-looking anyway, it's not surprising that the longing for it should simultaneously seem to 'remain' and 'go'. And equally conspicuously, there's a lovely wordplay between and the , 'road', in the second line. One more bit of implicit wordplay can be seen operating, consciously or unconsciously, in Nazm's commentary. The word means the edge of a sword-blade. But it also means 'breath' and 'moment'. In a verse like this, about things that are all too short-lived, things that we long to extend beyond their intolerably brief lifespan, how can we not also enjoy the penumbra of associations around ? For more on Ghalib's own clearly multivalent use of as both 'sword-edge' and 'breath', see 1,3 . There's striking sound-play in the verse as well. Each line begins with a conspicuous sequence of three nouns joined by two constructions. And these two long noun phrases both have no vowels except short and long . By contrast, the second part of each line is dominated by long sounds. The effect is to create a sort of 'phonetic parallelism' between the lines that makes them somewhat echo each other and calls attention to the grammatical and semantic parallels between the two lines. And contrasts too-- the first line ends in almost too many verbs, while the second ends without one. This engraved and enamelled , with an ivory hilt, is from Lucknow, early 1800's: graphics/shamshir.jpg