بعد از این که رقیب
Bad Az Ein Ka Raqeb
“After This, the Rival”
Lyrics
Lyrics updated · July 2026English Translation
After the rival took your hand in his After he treacherously stole a kiss from your lips I want death, I want death
Without you my days are all darkness Without you flowers are all thorns Without you, staying on — is nothing
Without you my poetry is babbling My speech is nothing but moans and sighs Without you — existence itself is death
Transliteration
Bad az ein ke raqib Dast dar daste tu didam Bad az ein ke ba maker Az labat bosa greft Marg khwaham, marg khwaham
Be tu rozam hama tar Be tu gul ha hama khar Be tu mandan hama hich, Be tu mandan
Bad az ein ke raqib Dast dar daste tu didam Bad az ein ke ba maker Az labat bosa greft Marg khwaham, marg khwaham
Be tu sheram hazyan Sokhanam nalah o ah, Be tu masti hama marg, Be tu hasti
Bad az ein ke raqib Dast dar daste tu didam Bad az ein ke ba maker Az labat bosa greft Marg khwaham, marg khwaham
متن اصلی
بعد از اين كه رقيب دست در دستِ تو بداد بعد از اين كه به مكر از لبت بوسه گرفت مرگ خواهـم، مرگ خواهـم
بى تو روزم هـمه تار بى تو گل هـا هـمه خار بى تو ماندن هـمه هـيچ، بى تو ماندن
بعد از اين كه رقيب دست در دستِ تو بداد بعد از اين كه به مكر از لبت بوسه گرفت مرگ خواهـم، مرگ خواهـم
بى تو شعرم هـزيان سخنم ناله و اه، بى تو هـستى هـمه مرگ، بى تو هـستى
بعد از اين كه رقيب دست در دستِ تو بداد بعد از اين كه به مكر از لبت بوسه گرفت مرگ خواهـم، مرگ خواهـم
After the rival took your hand in his and stole a kiss — I want death. Three stanzas of 'without you,' each stripping something further away, until existence itself becomes death.
About This Recording
'After the rival took your hand in his / After he treacherously stole a kiss from your lips / I want death, I want death' — the raqib (rival) is one of the essential figures of the ghazal world, the one who wins the beloved or keeps the lover from her. Here the rival's action is specific: hand-taking, kiss-stealing. The fact of his betrayal is established in the first two lines; everything after follows from it.
The three 'without you' stanzas build through categories: days (all darkness), flowers (all thorns), staying on (nothing). Each converts something normally good into its opposite in the beloved's absence. Days are for living; they become darkness. Flowers are beautiful; they become thorns. The act of continuing to exist becomes meaningless.
'Without you my poetry is babbling / My speech is nothing but moans and sighs / Without you — existence itself is death' — the final equation is the fullest: not that days are dark or flowers are thorns, but that existence and death have become synonymous. Ahmad Zahir's baritone, delivered level rather than melodramatic on such lines, makes the equanimity of the conclusion more affecting than agony would have been.
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