Even if God made my heart torn into a hundred pieces, it would have mattered little if He had only fashioned it into a comb for your musky, fragrant hair.
The poet says that if destiny was bent on tearing their heart into a hundred shreds, they wouldn't mind the agony at all—if only the Creator had fashioned those pieces into a comb for the beloved's fragrant tresses. The metaphor cleverly links the slit, broken heart to the teeth of a comb, turning intense grief into an act of tender intimacy. It captures the lover's ultimate wish: even if their heart must be ruined, let that ruin serve to touch and caress the beloved.
Interpretation note: meanings and explanations may be AI-assisted and should not replace a primary text or scholarly edition. See the editorial policy.
Audio
Free — just your email. You'll come right back here.
No comments yet. Be the first.