The story of Commander of Hearts in English by Atieh Cheknejadian Commander of Hearts 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 , " 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 skyAurora 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 and Karbala 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 andmade 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