پرچم سفید
The White Flag
زیر پرچم سه رنگ، واسه پرچم سفید
Under the three colored flag, for the white flag
مادرم دعا میکرد، پدرم میجنگید
My mother used to pray, my father used to fight
قلبمون اون روزا این همه ترک نداشت!
Back in the days, our hearts didn’t have this many cracks
دلمون شور میزد، دستامون نمک نداشت!
Our hearts were upset, our hands, unable
حالمون اون روزا اگه رو به را نبود
Although our feelings were messed up,
عوضش امیدمون کسی جز خدا نبود
On the other hand, our hope was nobody but the God
روزای دربدری، شبای بمبارون
The days of homelessness, the nights of bombing
دنبال نفت بدو، تو صف غذا بمون
Run for the oil, stay in the lines of food
دست خالی زیر گوله بارون بودیم
With bare hands, we were under the rain of bullets
خسته بودیم اما، مرد میدون بودیم
We were tired, however, we were the men-o’-war
رفقای مدرسم هنوزم یادم میان
My school buddies, I still remember them
کاش میدونستم الان همکلاسیام کجان
Wish I would know now where are my classmates
خنده های خواهرم لاله بود و پژمرد
My sister‘s laughters were tulips and perished
اشکای برادرم سیل شد دنیا رو برد!
My brother‘s tears become a flood and took over the world
سیل خون جاری بود از عطش تا کارون
The blood flood was flowing, from Atash to Kaaroon
خیلیا خاک شدن زیر سقف خونشون
SO MANY were buried right under the ceiling of their houses
زیر سقف خونشون
under the ceiling of their houses
حاج خانوم بهم میگه به دلم افتاده
The dear lady tells me she feels her guts
پسر مظلومم پشت در واستاده
My poor boy is standing behind the door
هنوزم بعضی شبا موج بمبِ تو سرم
Even still, some nights the boom of the bombs bangs my head
هنوزم خواب می بینم خونه ریخته رو سرم
Even still, I dream that the house have collapsed on my head
هشت سال زندگیم با همین دردا گذشت
8 years of my life, just passed, with these pains
هشت سال آزگار سخت بود، اما گذشت
8 straight years, it was hard, it passed however
واسه پرچم سه رنگ، زیر پرچم سفید
For the three colored flag, under the white flag
من هنوز معتقدم، باز باید جنگید
I still believe that we should fight once more
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