A reclusive and poor old man with white hair in his heart is dead, Omid is crying under his lips like a madman,
my calloused feet , my bloody hands are dying, I say hey, here I am a prisoner, the example of a prisoner, stop the chains
, let go of the good and the bad, separate the good from the bad, on the poor, these oppressions, until how long the
buds are full, the body is full, and the tulip is headless. Beautiful in the darkness of the night, dying from the thirst of no one, do not bend over, do not break the wings of these dandelions, do not break the wings of these innocents here.
