Why do you fear the living ones in the streets?
You should fear the martyrs living inside the graves
Because you are helpless to kill them again
Their blood still burns your soul and pierces your heart
Their presence is a sign of glory to come again in the form of your loss
There is nothing more precious than their blood
So precious that even hard to find in the paradise
The last smile they go with is a source of millions of tears
And there presence even in the graves will keep burning
The candle of revolution
As many more unknown faces will walk as living martyrs
Really the blood of revolution is priceless
It carries the fate of nations
It carries the prayers of that mother who kissed his martyr son for one last time
So your might is just a useless entity
Void of any value and fetching you only the curses
Your smirks will return to you in the form of black faces
That you will be forced to wear when the justice will be served by the GOD
On that day you will see the blood of revolution that you shed
Your faces will turn more black by seeing the reflection of your tyranny



This year is again going to end with a quiet winter in our land
Only left us wondering what remains in our hand
It displayed every season with their different colors
But our eyes saw only one among them
Color of blood as if spilled all over the valley floor
Our happiness is buried with them, and left us glum
The cities out there will be decorated, but nothing here to adore
Their hearts may be delighted, our are sore
We now again are filling reservoirs with blood
As new year is about to come
Leaving the living ones here again lifeless
For no one knows what is their for them over the heavens
I see mountains feeling regret in them
As how much tyranny and injustice they can hide
I see the lakes cursing on their existence
When they sees the patches of blood frozen in their frozen water
Deep is the pain, deep is the sorrow
When winds of death are roaming around
We now feel nothing new in the new year
But just keep revisiting the graves and scars
As everyone here has been the victim of generational wars

“Kya muhabbat ki dastan sunaegii wo bul bul
Jab uske saamne ujdaa hua chaman ho”

“What tales of love would tell that persian nightingale
When devatated flower garden is in front of her”



Come and tear this body apart again
Don’t let the blood to fall short
Untill now have we sparged this land
Let not the flower gardens dry up

See you the rouge of these flower gardens
Very less wonders are like this in the world
Why not flower will glow with happiness
When the land is the home of martyrs

I am in love with these wind
Which are coming from the paradise
Hidden is a secret in them
Whose harness is ours evocation

The blood of the martyrs
Every time has been the cause of revolution
It is the fortune of this nation
That in this time her martyrs are alive

The river of the blood
Have seen we flowing for a long period
The flower gardens of this land
Have been sparged by this blood