Today, Saam, a rapper from Tehran, came live on Instagram and said he could not stay online long because it cost an enormous amount of money. He then posted a video of his rap song. In the lyrics, he says this is the sixtieth day that people have been living under blackout.
Under these conditions, it is extremely difficult to know what is happening on Iran’s streets. What reaches the outside world is filtered, partial, and often shaped by what the state permits or stages for circulation. This makes it necessary to ask careful questions of anyone claiming to report on “public opinion” inside Iran: What material are they working with? How was it gathered? What is being amplified, and what is being made invisible?
In recent months, state-produced videos, including rap performances presented as signs of resistance, have circulated widely. But those videos should not drown out the voices of young rappers inside Iran who have been punished, silenced, or destroyed.
One of them was Abolfazl Yaghmouri, a seventeen-year-old rapper from Karaj. Iran Rights reported that he was killed in Fardis, Karaj, by Islamic Republic forces during the January 2026 protests. According to the report, people around him were prevented from taking him to the hospital. After his killing, authorities reportedly pressured his family to say that he was either a Basiji, a member of the state’s paramilitary force, or that protesters themselves had killed him. He wrote his own lyrics and had turned his bedroom closet into a small studio.
He was seventeen.
The January massacre was followed by U.S.-Israeli bombs, destruction, the Islamic Republic’s internet shutdown, job losses, and worsening inflation. That is how I hear Saam’s song today: as a voice coming through exhaustion, blackout, grief, and the command to survive.
Below is my translation of the lyrics.
صدای من رو می‌شنوی از داخل ایران
پایتخت
امروز شصتمین روزه که ما در خاموشی به سر می‌بریم
ولی هنوز روحیه رو حفظش کردیم
محکومیم به دوام آوردن
You are hearing my voice from inside Iran.
The capital,
today is the sixtieth day
we have been living under blackout.
But we have still kept our spirits alive.
We are sentenced to survive.
ما دیگه نایی واسه فریاد نداریم
اگه اون‌وری، جای ما هم عربده بزن
ماها جانبازهای اعصاب روانیم
بعد ایستادگی‌مون جلوی ترکش ستم
انگیزه رو از دست هنوز ندادیم
ولی دردمون دیگه درمون نمی‌شه با هیچ دوایی
We no longer have the strength to scream.
If you are on the other side, shout for us too.
We are the war-wounded, scarred in nerve and mind.
After standing firm before the shrapnel of tyranny,
we still have not lost our will.
But no cure can touch this pain anymore.
ما شاید دیگه خیلی دووم نیاریم
شما ولی سنگر خالی نذارید
واسه اونی که تو این راه جونشو داده
پدر مادری که جوونشو داده
اونی که الان زیر حکم اعدامه
با رویای آزادی روحیه داره
Maybe we cannot hold out much longer.
But you, don’t leave the trench empty.
For the one who gave their life on this path,
for the parents who lost their child,
for the one now under a death sentence,
still keeping their spirit alive with the dream of freedom.
تو تاریکی بده بهم نور و نشون
شاید انرژی بده باز هم یه کم
کی دلش به حال ما می‌سوزه جز خودمون؟
گور بابای سازمان ملل
شدیم از درون منفجر
ته کوچه‌های این شهر بن‌بسته
دل‌هامون روشن به آخرین فرصته
یه وقت نگی اون هم ظلمات مطلقه
Give me a sign of light in the dark.
Maybe it will give us a little more strength.
Who feels for us, except ourselves?
Damn the United Nations.
We have exploded from within.
At the dead end of this city’s streets,
Our hearts are lit by the last chance.
Don’t tell me even that is nothing but darkness.
زخم تو عمق عفونته
باید از بیخ بکنیم به کل قطعش
این جنگ سر منفعت و قدرته
جوونی ما فقط این وسط مفت رفتش
خزونه حتی فصل بهارمون هم
رخنه کرده تو درونمون غم
The wound is infected deep inside.
We have to rip it out by the roots.
This war is about interest and power.
Our youth was squandered, sacrificed for nothing.
Even our spring has turned to autumn.
Grief has seeped into us.
برای تحمل درد شده توانمون کم
ولی ما محکومیم به دوام آوردن
دوران طلایی جوونی مون رفت
کاممون تلخ، روح و روانمون زخم
نمونده تو شهر آدم صبور و خونسرد
ولی ما محکومیم به دوام آوردن
Our strength to bear pain has grown thin.
But we are sentenced to survive.
The golden years of our youth are gone.
Bitterness on our tongues, our souls and minds wounded.
There are no patient, calm people left in the city.
But we are sentenced to survive.