بوی خوش بهار

Boye Khush Bahar

The Sweet Fragrance of Spring

Ahmad ZahirFolk PreservationsStudio · Dari

Lyrics

Lyrics updated · July 2026

English Translation

The sweet fragrance of spring from the direction of the green meadow Came to my dark little house and said: spring! spring! I said: go away, go away — hear my words: Your spring for me is autumn without the face of that beloved Without the face of that beloved

Transliteration

Boye khush-e bahar az tarf-e sabza zaar Amad ba kolbaye tarik-e man goft bahar bahar Goftam beraw beraw ke harf-e man shenaw Bashad bahar-e tu bar man khazan be roye aan negar Be roye aan negar

Boye khush-e bahar az tarf-e sabza zaar Amad ba kolbaye tarik-e man goft bahar bahar Goftam beraw beraw ke harf-e man shenaw Bashad bahar-e tu bar man khazan be roye aan negar Be roye aan negar

متن اصلی

بوى خوش بهار از طرف سبزه زار آمد به كلبه تاريك من گفت بهار بهار گفتم برو برو که حرف من شنو باشد بهار تو بر من خزان بی روی آن نگار بی روی آن نگار

بوى خوش بهار از طرف سبزه زار آمد به كلبه تاريك من گفت بهار بهار گفتم برو برو که حرف من شنو باشد بهار تو بر من خزان بی روی آن نگار بی روی آن نگار

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The sweet fragrance of spring came to my dark little house and said: spring! I said: go away — your spring for me is autumn without the face of that beloved.

About This Recording

Boye Khush Bahar — The Sweet Fragrance of Spring — is a one-stanza song of striking compression. Spring's fragrance, arriving from the green meadow, enters the speaker's dark little house (khana-ye tira-ye man) as an announcement. The fragrance says 'spring! spring!' — and is immediately rejected.

The speaker's response — 'go away, go away — hear my words' — is directed at spring itself, personified as a visitor who has arrived with good news that lands wrong. The rejection of spring is the rejection of renewal, of the world's insistence on beginning again regardless of individual grief.

'Your spring for me is autumn without the face of that beloved' — the key transformation: seasons are not objective conditions but emotional facts. Without the beloved's face, spring and autumn are identical: both are loss, both are absence, both are the world going on without the one thing that would make it navigable. The Persian tradition of spring as the season of the beloved — when the rose blooms and the nightingale sings — makes the rejection of spring a rejection of the beloved's possibility itself.

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