بیمارم و غیر از جگره

I am ill and have nothing but a piece of my torn liver Except to die of your grief — I have no remedy

If I lament I disturb you And if I show patience — I have no heart of stone

If I go far I will die of longing for your face If I come near — I have no strength to gaze at you

I am ill and have nothing but a piece of my torn liver Except to die of your grief — I have no remedy

Bimaram o ghair az jigare para nadaram Joz annke bemiram ze ghamat chara nadaram

Gar nala konam ba ese aazare tu gardam War sabro nemayam dil az sang nadaram

Gar dooro rawam az gham didar bemiram Nazdik o rawam taqate nezara nadaram

Bimaram o khair az jigare para nadaram Joz annke bemiram ze ghamat chara nadaram