In memory of the Turkmen of the desert caught in the flood
My city, #Maraveh_Tepe!
O sleeping beauty among the mountains! The host of lovers of poetry and literature! The city of the great poet Makhtoumaghli Faraghi! You owe the pledge of martyr Hosseini. Don’t be afflicted.
I know that the flood took away your farmland, and you bear the injuries of such floods every year. But know that you will be green and lively again.
My city #Gonbad!
Don’t be afflicted. I know that a great sadness weighs on your heart. You have gone through days like this before. You should remove the mud from the flood and decorate yourself for Nowruz celebrations like every year. build around your high tower and welcome Nowruz tourists with oil bread. No one can complain about your hospitality, because for many years you have opened your arms to all ethnic groups (Afghan, Sistani, Baloch, Turk, Persian, etc.) and called everyone to unity and friendship by mentioning the dagger. The tallest brick building in the world, which you have placed in your heart, makes every tourist admire and wonder. I don’t know which eye was lying in wait and took your skirt. You have the legacy of old Jurjan. Chosen for your eternal grave. You are indebted to the love and humanity of martyred pilot and the courage and bravery of martyred martyr.
My city
Wide plain dear! A reminder of the hard times of Dr. Aleni Agh Oyler in the novel Fire Without Smoke! Blessed is the zeal of the young people of the border! Do not be afflicted. You are a symbol of hard work of desert people
My city #Aq_Qala!
Don’t be afflicted. Get up and put on the clothes of life again. No one will ever deny the hardworking hands of your men and the beautiful carvings that your women artists create. O city of famous athletes, scenes and a city of legendary parts. And well-spoken poets! Leave it to your historical bridge! May you endure this flood of accidents. You are indebted to the sharp vision of martyr Kandahari.
My city #Simin_Shahr!
You are the city of the emperor of the desert, the champion of the wrestling of the world. Put your hands on your knees and stand up. You are still young. You have to strengthen your roots.
My city #Bander Turkmen!
The city of medal winning athletes, the city of archees and iri and luxury! Oh, the easternmost port of the Caspian Sea! I know that you have been carrying the grief of your fisherman for many years. Nevertheless, you welcome tourists every year with an open face. You are indebted to the great character of Martyr Dr. Gol. Rise again and be a prophet of peace and friendship.
My city is lost!
Forgotten land! O cradle of the learned! Don’t be afflicted. Don’t let the events of your life tire you.
O Turkmen of the desert! My beautiful green! I know that you have seen unkindness. Wounds sit on your skin and you have deep pains in your heart. Leave the resentment of unkindness to your farmers. They will be beautiful. Leave your sorrows to the black-eyed girls, so that they will leave them to the wind in the middle of their laughter. to remove them with the sweat that sits on their foreheads. My desert Turkmen!
I swear by the spirit of the martyrs of your holy defense for eight years, and I give you a portion to the Qaboos Tower, which is worn in the sky as a witness of the oneness of God. Be green again, and grant the spirit of life to your people. Leave your prayers to the mothers of white hair May they smoke for you, so that calamities, eyes, wounds and jealousy will go away from you. You will live as long as the sweet song of your parts plays the ears of lovers and red carpets and noble horses are world famous.
Shaishet Agh Atabai – Secretary of Literature Marawa Tepe