Finally they were able to replace my idle hand with a solid iron hand,
 I can now
 To catch and kill the devil,
 He does not expect me to do this, but a human,
 I can punch Mustafa Al-Kazemi and break his jaw,
 To stop lying and ranting about patriotism,
 Raise it in the face of the Zionists bastards,
 And he was pulled out of their hands, a wounded man in the streets of Jerusalem,
 Write an abusive message to Khamenei in it,
 To stop his dogs from my homeland,
 Raise my middle finger to the Custodian of the Two Holy Sanctuaries,
 As he passes by his luxury car.

 But I don't paint with it like I used to;
 Delicate silk objects,
 Women with full breasts, humpy buttocks like my grandmother Ishtar,
 Rather, giants of flint are not struck by bullets.
 They rise up in Iraq.

 I regret that she lost her tenderness and cannot be loved,
 But she can pull a friend's hand hard,
 I regret that she does not clap with the tunes,
 And she can't play the piano,
 Dull doors are knocking violently ...

 Uh,
 If it were like her in my childhood,
 To defeat the terrifying boys,
 Who perished in wars and epidemics too late.

 I now have an iron fist,
 However, I still have the same name.