Brother on gallows ( Lyric )

With the wind, this sea is gone. Mourn sea. Mourn on the base of the mountain

What is going to be left from me tomorrow if I don't sing and talk about you, Farzad?
When the pen is unable to describe you, when each eye is intoxicated from your struggle
Forgive me, forgive me the iron-willed rock-hard hero, I swear to your determination in your struggle
that your death is becoming the start of a blossom. The hanged flower, you held up your head when walking to the gallows
When your shroud makes their hearts fearful, when they are scared even to hand over your corpse

What else is left to lose, the comrade of mountains and books, Kamangar?
I don't wail, it's not the time to mourn, my mind is full of anger, the inheritance is nothing
except tears and your colorless body in the soil, except your Kurdish eyes and the Kurdishness of your eyes,
except a gun that was in fact just a pen in your hands, they were the real gun-holders and you were the pen-holder
Farzad, the gallows which hanged you will pull other Farzad(s)

to the sky tomorrow, But every night a star will become again pregnant with a Farzad
I swear to your name that is carved on hearts, I swear to the sorrow of your mother
If I don't take revenge for what they did to you, my dignity and pride will be gone tomorrow


(In Kurdish:) From the day you left, there is no strength left in me
O my one and only beloved child, O the hope of my life

Don't cry after his departure, mother
Look, your son left with dignity and pride and he became free
It was enough bearing all that disgrace and insult
Where is that moment free of lamentation and shame, the moment of being respected, the moment of beautiful sense?
What do we do with the tiredness in this nadir? what do we do with the questions "what will happen", "what" and "why"?

What do we do with the azure faces at the end of the dead ends, the voices of wailers and minarets?
What do we do with the dried blood in our throats, with the broken statures of all these youths?
With the mind that has things to say and gets broken, meaning the last doors of hope get closed
I told you Mister that you will be on trial tomorrow, so stop all these tortures and killings

You are unfamiliar with my identity, you can't make me similar to yourself by force
You are humiliating me in the whole world, you insulted all that I am


My history is full of Babak and Kaveh, you do Takhti-killing, it's your plan
to kill a nation that is defenseless, you proved that politics is dirty
I tell you this in your own language so that you understand it, believe it, my verses are noble

(In Kurdish:) From the day you left, there is no strength left in me
O my one and only beloved child, O the hope of my life