Call to Arms

Only you,

O Iranian woman, have

In bonds of wretchedness, misfortune, and cruelty;

If you want these bonds broken,grasp the skirt of

Do not relent because of pleasing promises,never submit to tyranny;become a flood of anger, hate and pain,excise the heavy stone of cruelty.

It is your warm embracing bosomthat nurtures proud and pompous man;it is your joyous smile that bestowson his heart warmth and vigour.

For that person who is your creation,to enjoy preference and superiority is shameful;woman, take action because a worldawaits and is in tune with you.

Sleeping in a dark grave is happier for youthan this abject servitude and misfortune;where is that proud man..?

Tell himto bow his head henceforth at your threshold.

Where it that proud mane?

Tell him to get upbecause a woman is here rising to battle him;her words are the truth, in which causeshe will never shed tears out of weakness.