چرا دیشب به سوی من
Chura Deshab Ba Soye Man
“Why Last Night Toward Me”
Lyrics
Lyrics updated · July 2026English Translation
Why last night did you not look my way, not look at all? Did you not even secretly smile at me — not smile at all? Was it inattention, or did you fear the presence of rivals?
Lest, O my darling, you be cross with me Lest, O soul, you be swayed by this one's and that one's words
All night from this grief, my sweetheart, I devoured heart's blood With sighing and weeping and lamentation, I saw my night through
Transliteration
Chera dishab ba soye man namididi, namididi Nehane ham ba soye man nakhandidi, nakhandidi Taghafol bod ya az bodane aghyar tarsidi?
Mabada nazanin man, ze-man tu sar geran bashi Khodaye nakhwastaye jan, ba harfe ein o aan bashi
Tamame shab az ein gham dilbare man khoon dil khordam Ba aah o gerya o zaree, shabe khod ra ba sar bordam
متن اصلی
چرا ديشب به سوی من نميديدی، نميديدی نهانی هم به سوی من نخنديدی، نخنديدی تغافل بود يا از بودن اغيار ترسيدی؟
مبادا نازنين من، زمن تو سرگران باشی خدا نا خواسته ای جان، به حرف اين و آن باشی
تمام شب از اين غم دلبرمن خون دل خوردم به آه و گريه و زاری، شب خود را به سر بردم
Why last night did you not look my way at all — not even secretly smile? Was it inattention or fear of rivals? All night I devoured heart's blood in sighing and weeping and lamentation.
About This Recording
Chera Deshab Ba Soye Man — Why Last Night Did You Not Look My Way — is a song about the gaze withheld. The beloved was present — presumably at a gathering or event — but chose not to look at the speaker. The question 'not look at all?' (nadi-di aslan) is incredulous: not a glance, not even a secret smile. The withholding was complete.
The second hypothesis — 'was it inattention, or did you fear the presence of rivals?' — gives the beloved the benefit of some doubt. Perhaps the failure to look was not deliberate but simply distracted. Or perhaps the rival's presence made acknowledgment of the speaker dangerous. Both readings are offered without resolution, because the speaker genuinely doesn't know.
'All night from this grief, my sweetheart, I devoured heart's blood / With sighing and weeping and lamentation, I saw my night through' — the entire night is consumed by this single absence of a glance. The proportion is extreme: a look not given sends the speaker into a night of blood, sighing, and lamentation. But the proportion reveals something true about the economy of love: the smallest withholding can be as destructive as any larger betrayal.
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