By Shaaban Karamdokht
Translated by Asadullah Jafari “Pezhman”
In the form of your sojourn that flows to every bound
The sound of your blood is flowing in the bed of time
You are Hazara; you are the heir of this historical land
What happened to you? In your song, your cry is flowing
Thousands of times your heart poured out an inscription on the soil
Your tired voice is flowing to the stars
What pains are sitting on your heart and soul?
What wounds are visible, flowing in your mirror?
You are the proud Hazaras of the times
Although the pain is still running through your heart
The glory of your name will last forever
Your blood is flowing drop by drop
Stay with the homeland, with other Hazaras
The secret of patriotism flows in your voice.