In the valley of weeping Chinārs,
I see the little children -our future generation -
born in the terror stricken land,
Brooding on thorns in the garden of withered roses,
...
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in the terror stricken land
the innocent souls
cannot bloom spontaneously
before blooming
their hopes face
the grievous and grim deaths
oh
for them
in the holy heart has nothing
but only the prayer and song of emancipation
from the clutch of terrorism
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in the terror stricken land the innocent souls cannot bloom spontaneously before blooming their hopes face the grievous and grim deaths oh for them in the holy heart has nothing but only the prayer and song of emancipation from the clutch of terrorism