I was in search of fate, but it confronted you,
The light of my eyes—where is my Azady?
You took my heart and gave it to the mutts,
The sultan of my soul—where is my Azady?
My mosque and mihrab are left without the imam,
My moon didn’t rise and didn’t shine,
I was left alone, the flood surrounded me,
The ocean of my soul—where is my Azady?
My sweet words turned into a bitter poison,
My face turned yellow like saffron,
Weakness seized me, my eyes darkened,
Azan of my pulpit—where is my Azady?
My four seasons turned into the fires of hell, the mountains melted,
The living flew away, the dead started to walk,
Everyone who was left met with God,
The tongue of my people—where is my Azady?
The soil turned into mudflow, the mudflow turned into sand;
Large pots turned into bowls, whereas bowls into large pots;
My joy turned into mourning, anguish is my only lot;
Peace of my heart—where is my Azady?
The dead rose and begged the Almighty,
They went and repeated only one word to God,
Pleading much, “Let him go,” —they said,
Joy of the dead and the living—where is my Azady?
Infidels wept, and accepted Islam,
Hydyr and Solomon begged God,
The ocean turned into vapor to reach heaven,
The hero of the Goklen—where is my Azady?
I wish for nothing but to fight you, Fate,
Either you win and I shall be defeated, or I behead you,
I shall feed you to the mutts or sell you at the market,
The basil of my garden—where is my Azady?
The ears that heard this all became deaf,
All mountains melted, stones turned into sand,
Mullahs were left without the Quran, pirs became blind,
The Quran of the rulers—where is my Azady?
You covered the earth with black mist,
Fate, confess who was blessed with your mercy?
Look, you deprived Pyragy of his faith,
The faith of my dignity—where is my Azady?