"Sorrow for a land"
The city
Is an organ
by beats of
Gods Fingertips
as
Dust
Dust
The metropolis
Is a crown
A funeral march
To dislodged princes
As
Dust
Dust
The town
Is a book
Its words
In erosion by history
As
Dust
Dust
Ahvaz
Is founded
By the reflection effect of
Shorebirds' wings of time
On
Curvatures archaicity of the south waters
From
Mithras', the goddess, tresses
Now
Ahvaz
Thou are
The hell capital
When
The suicide of dozens tons dust
Are exploded
In your people larynx
At once
Ahvaz
Thou are
The hell capital
When
in silence
Your people's silence of breath
Is oblivion
Break the organ
Lose the crown
Close the book
Now
Screech
Tear garments
Rage
The breath right of your people
Mithras' arms
Obliterated
The enemy's arrow's wounds' places
Dust
Would still be erased
By Mithras
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