1. People wandering with plaintive laments
In a funeral grieving departed souls

2. They scratch burning faces in acts of despair
In black garb and in deep sorrows

3. And our father, player with spears
The noble Bara', whom the winds blew

4. O Amir, O Amir of the morn
And player with the cavalry of heavy infantry

5. And youths like fast messengers
You blessed them with fine garments and rest

6. And with saffron the color of sacrificial blood
And smoothness and ever-flowering splendor

7. If only a living awareness of success
Had known the player with spears

8. It would have been savior of the struggling sufferer
And protection in the corrupt time

9. When the hot winds blow
A cup of disasters and slaughter

10. You left it to inevitable fate
Adorned with genuine clarity