English Translation: I’m one of the survivors of November. I’m a poem, I’m a voice, I’m eternal. Me? I’m one of the thousands. I’m the sweet ending of the story. I'm intoxicated from the lashes of the whip and I’m victorious out of prison. I’m the flame of the trash that they called me, supported by life, facing the enemy. In the 2A prison ward, my file is a mountain. I’m Kasra [Nouri], Golrokh [Iraee] in a cell. I’m the inevitable glow of light. I’m the indispensable growth of the seed. I have roots. I am firm. Me? I’m the tree of hope for the homeland. I’m the child laborer. I’m unknown. I’m the callused hand of working women. In the season of unity, I’m a battalion. I’m the blood of Neda. I’m a “King”. I’m the drought of the heart of a dried lake. I’m the clipped wings of the bird. I’m the slap on the face of a soldier. I’m the shot in the chest of Ahvaz. I’m the poverty of the Baluch. I’m the Kurdish cross-border burden bearer. I’m the Arab tongue. I’m a Turk. I’m the son of Iran. I’m Bakhtiari, a symbol of courage. I’m the wrath of God. I’m your fear, the judge of the homeland, and the final justice. I’m God's purgatory. I’m your horror. I’m the soldier of justice, the honorable death. I’m the roar of anger, fury, the collapse of a dam, a flood. Inside I am sincere, consistent, a child. I’m soft, like death. I’m poetry. Good on Ya, break it, we don't have laws, and I promise we won't let anyone sleep peacefully. I promise that we won’t be less than the plague. We’ll unite and the police baton will run away. Give it to me, give it, Iran is mine, give it to me, give it, this land is mine! Give it to me, give it, it's all destroyed, give it to me, I'll rebuild it myself! I’ll rebuild it. My roots are in this soil. If I die, I will be reborn. I’m the interpretation of the nightmare and dream of this city. The chain of oppression will certainly be broken. I’m the red drop in your eyes. I’m the tears of grieving mothers. I’m the plasma of Khuzestan. I’m gasoline, the flame of November, Warning, killing, the situation is bad. Bullets shot into the head of the crowd. Me? I’m the blood under the boots. I’m a stew of Evin prison with a taste of Kahrizak prison, With lots of scars on my body. I’m the victim with his head in the mud, With wounds on his back, and delusions in his head. I’m the one who, whenever he flew, whenever he talked, The system injected morphine into my veins. They muzzled my lips (with drugs), creating smoke. I burned like the Zagros forests. As your law added fuel. Into every drop of blood you shed, A sea of water passed over my head. I will burn in this hell, But I will come out of the ashes. I am eternal in this wheel of struggle. I was born from war by force. I’m The fist of unity in the face of cruelty From north and south to the heart of Tehran Loyal to the soil and covenant. I’m the Hope in despair in the depth of prisons. I’m the anthem of pain. I’m the bitter sunset. I’m a light shining on the surface of the universe. I’m wrath, a bomb, a mine under foot. I’m the bitterness and anger with an unmasked face, The cry of a drowned generation. I’m an old grudge from the depth of the chest. Good on Ya, break it, we don't have laws, and I promise we won't let anyone sleep peacefully. I promise that we won’t be less than the plague. We’ll unite and the police baton will run away. Give it to me, give it, Iran is mine, give it to me, give it, this land is mine! Give it to me, give it, it's all destroyed, give it to me, I'll rebuild it myself! My flame is born of your gunshot. I’m Mahshahr. I’m a reed bed. I’m the narrator and the history is poetry itself. Remember! Then I’m the death of amnesia.
Wow fantast🎉❤
Excellent and effective song 👍
Thank you for your comment.
Great translation as usual 👌
@@seyedghahari6351 Thank you.
English Translation:
I’m one of the survivors of November. I’m a poem, I’m a voice, I’m eternal.
Me? I’m one of the thousands. I’m the sweet ending of the story.
I'm intoxicated from the lashes of the whip and I’m victorious out of prison.
I’m the flame of the trash that they called me, supported by life, facing the enemy.
In the 2A prison ward, my file is a mountain. I’m Kasra [Nouri], Golrokh [Iraee] in a cell.
I’m the inevitable glow of light. I’m the indispensable growth of the seed.
I have roots. I am firm. Me? I’m the tree of hope for the homeland.
I’m the child laborer. I’m unknown. I’m the callused hand of working women.
In the season of unity, I’m a battalion. I’m the blood of Neda. I’m a “King”.
I’m the drought of the heart of a dried lake. I’m the clipped wings of the bird.
I’m the slap on the face of a soldier. I’m the shot in the chest of Ahvaz.
I’m the poverty of the Baluch. I’m the Kurdish cross-border burden bearer. I’m the Arab tongue. I’m a Turk.
I’m the son of Iran. I’m Bakhtiari, a symbol of courage.
I’m the wrath of God. I’m your fear, the judge of the homeland, and the final justice.
I’m God's purgatory. I’m your horror. I’m the soldier of justice, the honorable death.
I’m the roar of anger, fury, the collapse of a dam, a flood.
Inside I am sincere, consistent, a child. I’m soft, like death. I’m poetry.
Good on Ya, break it, we don't have laws, and I promise we won't let anyone sleep peacefully.
I promise that we won’t be less than the plague. We’ll unite and the police baton will run away.
Give it to me, give it, Iran is mine, give it to me, give it, this land is mine!
Give it to me, give it, it's all destroyed, give it to me, I'll rebuild it myself!
I’ll rebuild it. My roots are in this soil.
If I die, I will be reborn.
I’m the interpretation of the nightmare and dream of this city.
The chain of oppression will certainly be broken.
I’m the red drop in your eyes.
I’m the tears of grieving mothers.
I’m the plasma of Khuzestan.
I’m gasoline, the flame of November,
Warning, killing, the situation is bad.
Bullets shot into the head of the crowd.
Me? I’m the blood under the boots.
I’m a stew of Evin prison with a taste of Kahrizak prison,
With lots of scars on my body.
I’m the victim with his head in the mud,
With wounds on his back, and delusions in his head.
I’m the one who, whenever he flew, whenever he talked,
The system injected morphine into my veins.
They muzzled my lips (with drugs), creating smoke.
I burned like the Zagros forests.
As your law added fuel.
Into every drop of blood you shed,
A sea of water passed over my head.
I will burn in this hell,
But I will come out of the ashes.
I am eternal in this wheel of struggle.
I was born from war by force.
I’m The fist of unity in the face of cruelty
From north and south to the heart of Tehran
Loyal to the soil and covenant.
I’m the Hope in despair in the depth of prisons.
I’m the anthem of pain. I’m the bitter sunset.
I’m a light shining on the surface of the universe.
I’m wrath, a bomb, a mine under foot.
I’m the bitterness and anger with an unmasked face,
The cry of a drowned generation.
I’m an old grudge from the depth of the chest.
Good on Ya, break it, we don't have laws, and I promise we won't let anyone sleep peacefully.
I promise that we won’t be less than the plague. We’ll unite and the police baton will run away.
Give it to me, give it, Iran is mine, give it to me, give it, this land is mine!
Give it to me, give it, it's all destroyed, give it to me, I'll rebuild it myself!
My flame is born of your gunshot. I’m Mahshahr. I’m a reed bed.
I’m the narrator and the history is poetry itself. Remember! Then I’m the death of amnesia.
This is so powerful and empowering.