سردار پایداری نویسنده عطیه چک نژادیان

The story of Sardar Paydari in English by Atieh Cheknejadian

Sardar Paydari Author Atieh Cheknejadian

His departure was amazing. it is night ; I am full of tears, I do not know why? I have the feeling of a human being who seems to be losing his loved one. I am full of tears, so much so that the world must carry an umbrella over her. It is time for sleep; I close my eyes and fall into a deep sleep; suddenly the sound of ministerial moaning excites me. I get up and stand; Oh my God, where is it here? I leave the thatched house that I do not know where it is. People run in the city and hit themselves on the head; The vassals mention the name of Ali, an old man who is nearby; I ask: - Excuse me, what happened to John"s father? The old man cries and says: "(Do you not know; our Mulayman Ali has been killed for the second time.) I hear nothing more; what does it mean ? Where is it here? My God, what does this man say ?? I follow people; I pass through the alleys of the old city, whose name I do not even know; Every moment I get closer and closer to the crowd, no, no, not my God; One person dies twice. My knees are weak; I"m exhausted; I can no longer bear to see these scenes, the man"s painting has been painted on the wall of the back alleys, but his face is so bright that my eyes do not deserve to see him. It gets a little dark in front of my eyes. I hear the sound of the call to prayer; I wake up suddenly; I breathe easy. Thank God the whole thing was just a dream. The sound of a cell phone catches my eye. That is, who can it be this morning? Hello - Hello Fatemeh, did you hear that Sardar Soleimani was assassinated near Baghdad airport last night? I don"t hear anything anymore; I feel like my back is broken. No, this is not true. I run to the TV and turn it on. "The commander of the Quds Force, Qassem Soleimani, and several of his companions were killed near Baghdad airport on Friday morning, January 4," the reporter said in a breaking news item. "No, this is not true." How can it be !! It must be a lie. It presses against my throat. So say that Ali who was martyred for the second time. How beautiful were you and did you watch our amazing history; where did you go, Sardar Delha ?? O shameless children of Syria, O warmth of the existence of the noble people of Lebanon, how shameful it is for me when I see that we were in the sweet dream of this carousel, that you filled the sky. Aurora is revealed in the sky; God have mercy; Have I dreamed or am I awake ?? I put on my clothes and go to the streets to be a little aware of the situation of the people in this tragedy. There is a deep sadness in the faces of the people. Haj Qasim, are you the child of which pure generation? From which plain did you grow dandelion? Which unclean hand shed your pure blood? Where are you going? In the midst of the greenest eternal spring, O sign of the unmarked, O mirror of light, O secret of love, O infinite, Tell me, after you, how can we celebrate spring with the black permission of winter? I do not believe; I do not believe that all this roar is asleep in the ground. Our souls went to the sacrifice of you, man of truth, and the truth was revealed. You went and all the worlds reviewed the love for the homeland, the love for mother and mother, Indeed, Sardar is worried about my generation, whose mothers understood femininity, face and body prosthetics. And they do not feel sorry for themselves in the show of love and affection. Not cowardly males who compete with women in showing off their beauty. Still, after you leave, the waves of zeal pound the enemy"s limbs. In what language can I tell you the nostalgia of the people of this land? So that you know how much they miss you; To know that our hearts are dying away from you. Where is it? Inside the book of history, until the east pillar trembles and the west roof falls. Where is it? To break the sedition again. The man of hard days, the commander of Valfajr 8 and Karbala 5 operations, on the day that Mr. Seyyed Ali awarded you the Zulfiqar badge, did he not know that the wolves of the demon had sharpened their teeth for your martyrdom? Seconds and moments pass in succession. The news all smells of you. Today is the day of the prayer ceremony in honor of a great man like you. Today, all of Iran is mourning. Yes, today all the children of the leader are mourning; And people count the moments to see your clean body. The pure body of Haj Qasim enters the courtyard. The streets are full of lovers of Sardar"s gate; Mr. Seyed Ali enters. To perform the prayer, and slowly, the white dandelion arrives from the distance with a kind breeze to the plain of Alaleh. Aqa"s voice smells of pain. Aqa Sayyid Ali paused several times because of hatred and said in prayer: )) And the whole crowd is crying. Our Lord, our Lord, unless we are dead, so that grief may come to your heart. If we are killed a thousand times and burned and resurrected; We will not give up on you. Our souls are sacrificed to you, vertical to religion. God, for a broken heart, sir, one or two rak"ats of crying are obligatory. The prayer ends and the people move the pure body of Hajj Qasim on their hands. How soon we miss the vast volume of luminosity. For that unknown and impatient silence, our hearts always miss that clear blue of your honesty. I"m walking in the street. People are all crying; But Sardar, I wish you did not go; I wish you did not go after I do not remember you leaving; no one in this land laughed from the bottom of their hearts Be; And I do not remember after cutting off your hand, hand It is hot pressed. A little further on, the heartbroken ones who have cried in the sky. They carry the coffin of the envelope on their shoulders. But these clean bodies have a lot to say. From nostalgia and the story of grief from the hardships they have endured; from cowardice and cowardice, I do not know whether to recite Roza Abbas for your severed hand or Roza Ali Akbar for your torn body ... Are . Qasim Soleimani, who defends his honor, dignity, land, and honor with all his being and life. Hajj Qasim, we swear by the beauty of the kingdom of blood; They have opened the carpet to the flying throne of Cobra. A few days have passed since the martyrdom of Sardar. Today is your burial day. Early in the morning, along with the sunrise from behind the mountains of Kermanshah, you will be buried in the beauty of anemones. Sardar Delha, your martyrdom is blessed; seconds are waiting for your return; my heart is the interpretation of a book that has waited until the end of the road for no one. . Goodbye, martyr, the way of God ... A few mornings pass, it is morning; I turn on the TV, the reporter announces amazing news: - ((Iran missile attack on US bases in Iraq ...)) Tears of joy gather in my eyes, my heart calms down a little; The voice of Martyr Haj Qasim, who said to Trump: "I alone am enough to destroy you and I stand in front of you" echoes in my ear; a smile flows on my lips, yes he stood, he alone in the face of all oppression He stood up and made it clear to everyone that being a man of God is a wonderful pleasure; Sardar, from the top of the desert of my heart, I wish you the highest aspirations, although there are no greater aspirations than being dear to God. You made it clear to the youth of this land that it is possible to fight with empty hands; if the wings of our thinking are open. Not only today, but every day is your day, you are a day of warriors mixed with the spirit of resistance and mixed with noise and diligence. Happy day.

The bloodline is not Soleimani"s end point Be afraid, that this is the first in the name of God