میروم خسته و افسرده
Merawam Khasta O Afsorda
“I Go, Tired and Dejected”
Lyrics
Lyrics updated · July 2026English Translation
I go weary and broken and wretched Toward the abode of my ruined dwelling By God I take away from your city My turbulent and mad heart
By God I was the bud of joy The hand of love came and plucked me from the branch I became the flame of sighing — a hundred regrets That my lips never reached that lip
In the end the bond of the road tied my feet I go with laughter on my lips and a blood-filled heart I go — release me, O heart O vain and fruitless hope
Transliteration
Merawam khasta o afsorda o zar Soye manzelgahe wayranaye khwesh Bakhoda mebaram az shahre shoma Dil shorida o deewanaye khwesh
Bakhoda ghonchaye shadebodam Dast ishq amad o az shakham chid Shohlaye ah shodam sad afsos Ke labam baz bar an lab narasid
Haqebat band safar payam bast Merwam khanda ba lab khonin dil Merwam az dil man dast bedar Ay omid abas be hasel
متن اصلی
ميروم خسته و افسرده و زار سوی منزلگه ويرانه خويش بخدا می برم از شهر شما دل شوريده و ديوانه خويش
بخدا غنچه شادی بودم دست عشق آمد و از شاخم چيد شعله آه شدم صد افسوس که لبم باز بر آن لب نرسيد
عاقبت بند سفر پايم بست ميروم خنده به لب خونين دل ميروم از دل من دست بدار ای اميد عبث بی حاصل
I go weary and broken and wretched — by God I was the bud of joy, plucked from the branch by love's hand; I go with laughter on my lips and a blood-filled heart; O vain hope — release me.
About This Recording
Merawam Khasta O Afsorda — I Go Weary and Broken — is a departure song told from mid-departure: the speaker is already moving, already leaving, describing the conditions of the leave-taking as it happens. 'Toward the abode of my ruined dwelling' — the destination is no better than the origin. The speaker is not going somewhere good; they are going toward their own ruin.
'By God I was the bud of joy / The hand of love came and plucked me from the branch' — the bud of joy (ghonche-ye shadi) plucked before blooming is a common Persian image for potential destroyed. A bud plucked before it flowers will never flower; its possibility is also its ending. 'I became the flame of sighing — a hundred regrets / That my lips never reached that lip' — the sigh as flame is one of the older Persian metaphors: the breath that burns. The regret is specific: not the love in general but the kiss in particular that never happened.
'I go with laughter on my lips and a blood-filled heart' — this is the performance of departure: leaving with a smile while the heart bleeds. The concealment of grief behind composure is a recurring theme in Persian lyric; here it is named directly, the performance and the reality stated simultaneously. 'O vain and fruitless hope' — the final address to hope itself, asking to be released from it.
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