---

Shut up and listen:
Can you hear the breath
Of the son of secret,
The ghost of death?

He was sitting on the
hot and golden sand, alone,
at the Alamut’ gates.
Starving and burnt by the
evil Sun, so many years
have passed since then.

And years of exhausting drill
Made him deft and ready to kill.

No one will be saved from the fate
In the shade of silver blades
The labeled can’t hide
From his poisoned and curved knives.

So many different names
On his copper and dirty plates
The paradise rests
In the shadow of his deadly blades.

The humble tool of the mountain
elder holds in awe
the mighty and wealthy lords.
They can’t forecast his presence,
and resist the terror,
nothing to oppose.
From the dawn and till the velvet dusk
He despises death, the cutthroat rise.

Only in the silence you can hear the breath
Of the son of secret, the brother’s death.

The dispassionate look like the steel shine
It seems to mark you by the death’s sign.

His duty will never share his time
For the pleasures of his honor.
The only wish is afterlife,
To slaughter and to be slaughtered.

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