Iran, Iran by Reza Mahdavi

ایران، ایران

ایرانِ زیبای من

سرفراز ایستاده، با غرور.

نه مقاومت کرد،

که آغوش گشود.

حتی وقتی آتش بر تنش ریختند،

او آغوش گشود.

پذیرفت، چنان‌که همیشه کرده 

نفرت را،

خشم را،

غرش جنگ را.

و از زخم‌هایش،

دعایی بافت.

از خشم‌شان،

آوازی ساخت.

رنج را به شعر بدل کرد،

خاکستر را به امید،

آتش را به نور.

همه را بدل کرد 

به عشق،

به ایران

Iran , Iran

My Beautiful Iran

She stands tall, unshaken, proud.

She did not resist.

She opened her arms.

Even when they struck her with lightning.

Even when they burned her with fire.

She opened her arms,

and received the blows.

She bore it all,

as she always has 

The hatred.

The fury.

The thunder of war.

And from her wounds,

she wove a prayer.

From their rage,

she spun a song.

She turned pain into poetry,

ash into hope,

and fire into light.

She turned it all 

Into love,

Into Iran.

Yo lo Creo/

I Believe, and so it is