O singer, this restless heart is already looking for excuses to grieve, so do not sing any sorrowful ghazal at all.
The poet gently cautions the minstrel not to play a sorrowful melody, knowing just how fragile his spirit is at this moment. His restless heart is already wound so tight that it needs merely the slightest excuse—a single melancholic note—to break down completely into overwhelming tears. It beautifully captures that delicate state where one's composure is a dam holding back an ocean of grief, ready to burst at any trigger.
Interpretation note: meanings and explanations may be AI-assisted and should not replace a primary text or scholarly edition. See the editorial policy.
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