Full of wounds, I am a fedayee
Wandering, I have no home,
Instead of my lover, I embrace my gun,
Nowhere have I had a peaceful sleep.
The mourning and weeping of the bloodied land,
Called me from my cloistered life.
The love of my tortured fatherland
Made me unafraid of danger.
I was dubbed a fedayee,
I became a soldier of an ideal:
Let the rivers of blood I have shed
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