گل

In the prisons of tyranny, now from whose blood do thousands of flowers bloom?

What is the flower of carnation? Which brave warrior’s body is set ablaze by the flames of youth? که

“That blood now drips from the walls of old wounds. Those flower wounds that”

They go with sparks of fire towards the dawn stars, in the bloody night.

Come on. Let the cry of lovers pass from the distant shores. بود

Blood was spilled on the ground of the battlefield. This was the cry of freedom.

There is no remaining in captivity; from every side, this fence screams.