Tired, Sleepy, Sick and Cold in Farsi: 9 Words

Short answer: Tired in Farsi is khaste. Cold has two words: sard is the adjective, as in cold weather, and sarmâ is the noun, the cold itself. Sleepy is khâb-âlu and sick is mariz. For your mood, nârâhat means upset and asabâni means angry, and both work as short answers on their own.

These are the words you reach for when someone asks how you are and the honest answer is about your body. You've slept badly, you're freezing, you're coming down with something.

I've kept this to physical states plus four mood words. The bigger emotions have their own page in Persian emotions vocabulary.

Body States in Farsi

If you're actually unwell, the doctor visit phrases take mariz into the clinic.

Moods

Nârâhatam and asabâni hastam are complete sentences, which makes them easy first answers.

Saying tired to someone who is working

Khaste sits inside one of the most Iranian phrases there is: a wish that someone not be tired. Iranians say it to bus drivers, delivery couriers, security guards, students after an exam, and anyone they see working. The usual reply is a wish for good health.

It shows a pattern in Iranian politeness. Where English says thanks once, Persian speaks to the other person's effort and wraps thanks, a kind wish and goodbye into a single phrase. The glossary entry for khaste gives the full phrase and its reply, and compliments in Farsi lists it with other praise.

Why you eat a cold

Sarmâ is the cold itself, and the everyday way to say you've caught a cold is literally to have eaten cold. In Iranian folk medicine, illness is often framed as cold or hot food entering the body, so cold is something you take in.

Sard also works for food. Rice eaten cold the next day counts as second best to fresh rice.

Upset or angry

Nârâhat is the soft one. It covers hurt feelings, and Iranians use it before the bad news, asking you not to be upset by what they're about to say. It also means physically uncomfortable, so a bad chair can be nârâhat.

Asabâni is louder. It's the tense jaw and the raised voice, and when parents warn a child that dad is getting asabâni, it lands harder than nârâhat would.

Get it wrong and the worst that happens is a warm laugh and a story they’ll tell for years. Get it right — refuse the tea twice, accept on the third — and you’ll watch a face open up. You didn’t just speak Persian. You played the game.