
A thousand years have passed since strangers came,
Yet still my homeland bleeds from ancient wounds.
The fire of our fathers dimmed,
Our voice drowned beneath foreign storms.
O Iran, rise again from sorrow—
Your spirit is older than their swords.

A thousand years have passed since strangers came,
Yet still my homeland bleeds from ancient wounds.
The fire of our fathers dimmed,
Our voice drowned beneath foreign storms.
O Iran, rise again from sorrow—
Your spirit is older than their swords.