O broken body, my martyr, the martyr of the city, the stories
are carried on the shoulders, the broken body of the angels , O my martyred brother, the martyr of the leaves of the flower, the shroud, without you, whether the birds are full or silent, the smell of your smell was the smell of blood, the cry of your soil was pure, death in your birth, you have gone with yellow leaves to the border of the wind, to the cold soil , without you you blood must cry, without you blood must cry, my city has the courage to cry You believed that my heart was in mourning for you, the heat of your kisses remained on my lips, without you, the city of mourning of the world for me,
O you have entrusted me to your eternal exile, your companion on the piles, anemones bloomed, the color of your blood here , the bird must die, the naked flight, I do not forget in the qibla, sometimes whatever the free soul in you is the refuge of his love, the parachute shouts with blood, the last message, on the soil filled with the wind of my martyr, happy martyrdom to the blood. Happy Beating of Your Migration to the Beating Blood of Happy Migration
