Since crying is written in my destiny, my thoughts never even turn toward laughter.
In this poignant sher, the poet speaks of a sorrow so deeply entrenched that it feels written into the very fabric of their destiny. Grief has become such a permanent state of being that the idea of joy feels completely foreign—laughter is not just unachieved, it doesn't even cross the mind as a fleeting thought. It beautifully captures that quiet resignation where pain ceases to be an interruption and becomes life's only familiar reality.
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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