Gar Zolfe Porayshanat
“If Your Disheveled Hair”
Lyrics
Lyrics updated · July 2026English Translation
If your disheveled hair fell into the morning breeze's hand Every heart, wherever it might be, would fall into a trap of affliction
We have cast the ship of our patience into the sea of grief To the end of this storm, where will each plank fall?
After all, what harm would come to the king of kingdoms If one day he cast a glance at the state of a beggar?
Transliteration
Gar zolfe porayshanat dar daste saba oftad har ja ke dile bashad dar dam bala oftad
Ma keshtie sabre khwesh dar bahre gham afghandim Ta aakhir az ein toofan har takhta koja oftad
Aakher chi zeyan oftad sultane mamalek raa Ke-ora nazare roze, bar hale gadah oftad
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English Translation:
If your wavy hair; were to fall into the hands of the morning breeze (when the lure of your mysterious ways, joins up with the gentle morning breeze) Wherever there is a heart, it would (surely) fall into its mischievous snare (Where there is a heart, it would (surely) fall into the trap (of divine love)
I have launched my vessel of patience (and endurance) into the ocean of love As results of this typhoon (hurricane), where shall each piece (plank) end up?
So (really)! what harm could come the ruler of all the nations (ruler of the world: Allah)? If he were to notice someday, the feelings of (this poor) beggar
متن اصلی
گر زلف پُريشانت در دست صبا افتد هر جا که دلی باشد در دام بلا افتد
ما کشتی صبر خويش در بحر غم افگنديم تا آخر از اين طوفان هر تخته کجا افتد
آخر چه زیان افتد سلطان ممالک را کو را نظری روزی، بر حال گدا افتد
A ghazal on the beloved's wind-scattered hair as a trap set for hearts — the ship of patience cast into a sea of grief, no shore promised, the king of kingdoms asked to spare one glance for a beggar.
About This Recording
One gust of morning wind lifts the beloved's loose hair, and every heart within reach is snared. She does nothing. Her nearness, carried on the breeze, is enough, and the shipwreck of the lover follows as a matter of course.
By the last stanza the address turns upward, to a 'king of kingdoms': what would it cost him to glance, just once, at a beggar? The king is a real man and also the beloved; the beggar is the poor and also the lover. Zahir holds both readings at once and settles neither.
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