In the rain of hot bullets sprinkled on this soil, the seeds of thousands of gardens of those who recklessly sacrificed their lives in the salt marsh of the forest were set up in the salt marsh of helplessness,
in the bed of history, the blood of these companions of the epic boils from the fountain of rebellion, the moment when the executioner ordered the fire in memory of freedom, it was set in blood, at the moment of the execution of the ascension of these companions, their cry was: Long live Iran, brotherhood on this side. In the firing squad on the other side, the comrade of the people, above the fire,
under the rain of hot bullets sprinkled on this soil, the seeds of thousands of gardens of the soldiers brother, the one who is with us now, I wish he had woken up earlier, if the peoples thinking was like that brother, our history would be different today
