Stand up!
Stand up!
You’re standing in line in Palangan Mosque
Your knapsack is filled with tuna and gift nuts
And your waist decorated with cartridge boxes
Stand up!
And you climb up Shahoo in a long queue
And hear the breeze amidst the grass
And the river flowing down the valley

Sit beside that rock
And let river pass through the valley
The men take water in white jars
You’re tired
Sit beside that rock
 Sight on the black spot, fire!

The spring grass is crushed under foot
It has covered the graves
And the moustache of Akbar Komole
Company! Ahead!
The boots are oversize for your feet
When you pass the first corner
You’ll see Dervish Faaress
With his long M1
Wrapping a cigarette
You’re frightened
Tight grasp the Klachinkov

In the Israeli sleeping-bag
You’re slept comfortably
And no news of gun and gunshot in your dream
You’re left behind
From the company who has gone to the front line

Among the tamarisk bushes
With a tin of hot water
Ghosl mikonam Ghosle Jenabat
Bar man vajeb ast ghorbatan elal Allah