اون کیه که هر نفس می خونه اسم ما رو؟
با صدایی دلنشین می شکنه طلسما رو؟
اون کیه که تو نگاهش شور یک آتشکده،
می شینه باز می خونه زمزمه های سده؟
توی دست مهربونش شاخه ی نیلوفره
هدیه ی نوروز اون آزادی مرد و زنه
با کلامی دلنشین این رو برامون سر داده
مردن توی راه اون از زندگی قشنگ تره
نبض شوق و آه من
اون تویی ای شاه من
تویی تو آغاز من
سوز این آواز من
کوروش ای پاک ترین مرد زمین، ما رو تا اوج ترانه ببر و نزار غمین
بوی خاک و بوی گل، آبی خلیج پارس
سبز و سرخ، سپید پاک اینها رمز و راز ماست
از خاک مقبرتم ایران ما جون می گیره
خشت خشت اورشلیم از تو سامون می گیره
کورش ای پاک ترین مرد زمین، ما رو تا اوج ترانه ببر و نزار غمین
Who is he that every breath called our name?
With the pleasant sound breaks the talismans?
Who is he that with his look, passion of a Fire temple,
arrives and calls again whispers of Sadeh?
He has a lotus flower branch in his kind hand.
His Norouz gift is freedom for men and women.
With verbal pleasant, he has delivered this message.
Death in his way is more beautiful than life.
The pulse of my joy and pain,
is you, oh my king.
You are my beginning,
Burning of my this singing.
Kourosh, oh brightest man on earth,
Take us to the peak of song and don't left us sad.
Smell of soil and flower, the blue of Persian Gulf,
Green and red, bright white, are our mystery.
From the soil of your tomb, our Iran becomes alive again,
Clay by clay of Jerusalem takes capability.
Kourosh, oh brightest man on earth,
Take us to the peak of song and don't left us sad.
With the pleasant sound breaks the talismans?
Who is he that with his look, passion of a Fire temple,
arrives and calls again whispers of Sadeh?
He has a lotus flower branch in his kind hand.
His Norouz gift is freedom for men and women.
With verbal pleasant, he has delivered this message.
Death in his way is more beautiful than life.
The pulse of my joy and pain,
is you, oh my king.
You are my beginning,
Burning of my this singing.
Kourosh, oh brightest man on earth,
Take us to the peak of song and don't left us sad.
Smell of soil and flower, the blue of Persian Gulf,
Green and red, bright white, are our mystery.
From the soil of your tomb, our Iran becomes alive again,
Clay by clay of Jerusalem takes capability.
Kourosh, oh brightest man on earth,
Take us to the peak of song and don't left us sad.
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