At the time of May and Golshan John Golshan God became the lawn In the spring time of Zagh and My Jagh and God became charcoal From the cloud of Ray Rashk Rabbi Dell Cho Mansar Monarm Homemade Chicken Neither do you have no rituals of wheel from the blood of the youth of the homeland My Laleh Tulip from the cedar and my soul my servo bent the bent in the shadow of Golbal Crazy What is your grief O Wheel Neither the Religion of the Wheel Nor the Religion of the Wheel
