It was that red colour on the high horizon of Kurd

Which was carrying the happy tidings of dawn to remote and near nations

It was Newroz which imbued the hearts with such a fire

That made the youth receive death with devoted love

Hooray! The sun is shining from the high mountains of homeland

It is the blood of our martyrs which the horizon reflects

It has never happened in the history of any nation

To have the breasts of girls as shields against bullets

Nay. It is not worth crying and mourning for the martyrs of homeland

They die not. They live on in the heart of the nation.

The New Year’s day is today. Newroz is back.

An ancient Kurdish festival, with joy and verdure.

For many years, the flower of our hopes was downtrodden

The fresh rose of spring was the blood of the youth

It was that red colour on the high horizon of Kurd

Which was carrying the happy tidings of dawn to remote and near nations

It was Newroz which imbued the hearts with such a fire

That made the youth receive death with devoted love

Hooray! The sun is shining from the high mountains of homeland

It is the blood of our martyrs which the horizon reflects

It has never happened in the history of any nation

To have the breasts of girls as shields against bullets

Nay. It is not worth crying and mourning for the martyrs of homeland

They die not. They live on in the heart of the nation.