هدف

ورس اول:

Goal

[Verse 1]

The heads of each country have gathered in United Nations
Friends, Strangers, Enemies
The heat of breath, the scent of perfume
Pen in hands, instead of weapons
Drawn on paper, not on people
Ties around their neck where they tied nooses around people’s
They’re all marked in colors and ranks
Generals and ministers
Under command of Mr. Raeesi
And how they praise their own goals in language of poets
Forbidding disobedience in the name of law
Since the times of Shah
Slaughtering infidels
By the hands of the beggars for power and wealth
The force of bullets
Sickness and plagues
Population Control
The reality is something else
I say in the name of someone who created this piece
Whose thoughts were broken down
And became guides to sections of life
I’m tired

[Verse 2]

My soul brought itself to heaven
A group of creators – women – dressed in white
Tall in height
Ruined in the language of Taliban
As sour as the ones murders
Censoring ourselves by our own volution

Scared of our path in life
More bitter than snake venom
Oppression
Breaking the pens of poets
Cutting the feathers of eagles in the sky
I arrived at an old tree that was embracing the soil with its roots
I became the axe of the woodcutters
I hit
My feet broke
Put my head on the ground
and prostrated to the tree of revolution
It was me who shouted
And put my life on the line
So I am not a disgrace to poets
I swear to the God who pointed to the sky
To the mothers who pray for their sons to return from the war
Holding weapons for ideals under the chief’s orders
Permitted to take lives
Fuck the system and whoever invented the war 
Let’s you and I attend a wedding, hand in hand
Halparke and smiling faces
Away from pain and the smell of death
Put away that tool of sadness
You’re brainwashed, for someone else’s benefit
Pulling the trigger against me
Against the public
When I knew you as my brother
And no one was better for you than me

Somehow my words had an effect
And he hugged me
And cried on my shoulders
I took out my knife and stabbed him in the chest
Blood spilled out of his mouth
And I took his gun
And went on to conquer wherever my commander told me 
They put a medal of dignity on my chest
Exactly where that boy had become a sheath to my knife
which I didn’t even pull out, it was my gift to him
But it was good fortunate for me
If I kill two more like this, I can sit at home
With my wine and beautiful girl
Holding my walkie talkie, ready to act
If there was an afterlife, I’d be sitting with my brothers
Not sure what happened
And how Jamil lost his dignity…