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Is there a Di'Bil here? Who can compose a Line or

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Is there a Di'Bil here, who can compose a line or few lines?


Imam himself convened these Majalis in which he recited first, then allowed others to read the story of Karbala’. Abdallah ibn Thabit and D’bil al Khuzai were the poets who asked to recite poems narrating the tragic events.

Establishment of Majalis to commemorate the events of Karbala’




Sayyid Ibn Tawoos says, that the narrator says, that then they left from Karbala towards Madinah. Basheer bin Jazlam says, that when we reached near Madinah, Imam Ali Zainul Abedeen (a.s.) dismounted there and pitched tents and told the women to alight too, and then said,

“O Basheer! May Allah have mercy upon your father, he was a poet. Then can you recite elegies too?”

I replied, “Yes, O son of the Prophet of Allah (S)! I too am a poet”. Imam (a.s.) said,

“Then go to Madinah and announce the news of the martyrdom of Abu Abdullah (a.s.)”.



The poem which Di‘bil recited to the Imam, peace be on him, is regarded as one of the masterpieces of Arab literature and among the sources of Islamic legacy. It is the most famous of Di‘bil’s poems. It had a strong impression on the Imam, so he wept and fainted three times.11 



.....O Fa’tima, if you imagined al-Husayn, who was thrown to

the ground and died thirsty by the Euphrates, then you, O

Fa’tima, would strike your cheeks beside him and make

the tears of your eye flow on your cheeks.

O Fa’tima, arise, O daughter of the good, and mourn for

the stars of the heavens in a deserted land.

Graves are in Kufa’n (i.e. Ku’fa); others are in Tiba; others

are in Fakh; blessings are called down upon them.38

Other (graves) are in the land of al-Jawza’n; a lonely grave is at Ba’khamra’.39

And a grave is in Baghdad; (it) belongs to a pure soul

which the Merciful (Allah) has included in the Gardens.40

As for the painful misfortunes which have deeply hurt me

through the essence of qualities, (they are) the graves by the River Euphrates in the land of Kerbala’’, where they (al-Husayn and his companions) stopped at the late night.

They died thirsty by the Euphrates, so would that I died

for them before the time of my death........





...If I was in Karbala on this night

the last night before the end,

I would witness.....




Is there Anyone to Help You?

You called out,

deserted on the sands of Karbala,......


Edited by S.M.H.A.

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English. Write/Translate from other language in English( Muslims/non Muslims can understand). 

Subject: Any emotion you have on the events of Ashura/Karbala/Personality. Your raw emotions expressed in language, paint a picture, describe whatever your heart desires.

Take me to Karbala,be my guide, describe to me whats going on....

Be an invisible person, watching everything

or anything you or any one wanted to write about 

or you were there and now narrating it in a poetic form for others


Just write/compose whatever comes to your mind. A line or two , or three . 

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By the blood red moon, and the surrounding gloom

So which of the favors of your Lord would you deny?

Under the blood red moon, I would cry with tears in full bloom

So which of the favors of your Lord would you deny?

But my tears were never pained like the women who husbands and sons on the foretold soil lie

So which of the favors of your Lord would you deny?

Under the blackened and furious sky, of a thousand arrows?

So which of the favors of your Lord would you deny?

As the steel swords echo blow by blow, the ordeal grows

My heart sighs at what is to come, yet I never saw it with my eyes

So which of the favors of your Lord would you deny?

The head hung high, the one who said no and embraced his demise

So which of the favors of your Lord would you deny?

Oh Kufa, he heeded your call, where were you when he needed you all?

So which of the favors of your Lord would you deny?

False tears you cry, while alone and forsaken by all, he falls

So which of the favors of your Lord would you deny?

Oh Kufa, la hawla wa la quwwata illa billah

So which of the favors of your Lord would you deny?

The east and west belong to Allah-

So which of the favors of your Lord would you deny?

The tragedy of Karbala, oh Kufa, is upon you-

So which of the favors of your Lord would you deny?

A leader, father, a son and grandson is what you lose

So which of the favors of your Lord would you deny?

Twelve strokes of the sword, the flesh accuses-

So which of the favors of your Lord would you deny?

Their eyes belie their heart, within is their concealed part

So which of the favors of your Lord would you deny?

When a woman cries out "Are there any Muslims amongst you?"

So which of the favors of your Lord would you deny?

Know, O Kufa, how terribly you should lose

So which of the favors of your Lord would you deny?

When from yourselves, you cannot recuse!

~ To be continued...

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"..The heads were placed on the top of the spears, and put in the midst of camel-litters, and the prisoners were thus paraded up to the gate of Damascus and thenceforth to the gate of the Grand Mosque. Then they were confined to the detention quarter.

It is mentioned in a tradition that when an elderly Muslim saw the holy head of Husayn (a.s.), he hid himself from the people for one month. Thereafter when people saw him they asked the reason. He replied: "Did you not see what happen to us?"

Then he recited the following prose:

O son of the daughter of Muhammad!

They brought your head drenched in your blood;

Thus, O son of the daughter of Muhammad!

They have openly and intentionally killed the Prophet;

They killed you, keeping you thirsty,

and did not pay attention to the Quran and its interpretation;

While killing you they said Allahu Akbar.

Verily by killing you they have killed Takbeer (Allahu Akbar)

and Tahleel (La ilaha illa Allah)."



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The Imam’s Beloved Daughter Most Reveled Sakina (‘a)

(" Bevon kaa mulke Shaam mein jis dum guzar hua" )

When in Shaam the caravan of widows arrived

In embarrassment they bowed their heads and cried

Seeing the spectators lined up on the streets

Tears of humiliation filled their eyes

Having trailed through the roads, shops and streets

The Queens reached the court of the infamous Yazid

There Yazid conversed with Abid at length

Hearing Abid's responses, the attendees wept

Disgraced, Yazid brought the confrontation to a close

Enraged at Sajjad's character and strength

while all spectators went back to their homes

To prison the kin of the Prophet went on

In the dark prison, they sat heads bowed

Frightened of the darkness, Sakina looked around

So exhausted was Abid from His journeys on foot

He dropped to the floor without a sound

Many nights He had stayed up, many miles He had walked

He slept now, resting His ahead on the wall

"why is it so dark" Sakina wanted to know

"What place is this mother, where no air flows?

The darkness is smothering, I can't see a thing

Not the earth beneath or the sky above"

"We cannot stay here, no one will survive

Won't lamps be lit when evening arrives?"

"If it stays this dark, I will certainly not last

I'm convinced that this night will not pass

My Father would cradle me on his chest at night

Now sleep on the dirt? I cannot alas"

"If a lamp blew out, I'd wake with a start

Have I ever, Oh Mother, slept in the dark"

Her mother replied, wiping Sakina's tears

"Hush my little one, lest the guards hear

Morning will come soon, the dark will be gone

The moon will illumine this place my dear"

"The breeze will flow, the night will cool down

I'll hold you in my arms, rest Oh little one"

Thus the mother consoled, cajoled and calmed

The girl was restless, the night stretched on

Sakina sobbed and wept through the night

Weary she curled up in her mother's arms

Her frail body weak and drowsy, she slept

And Banu held Sakina in her arms and wept

Within moments Sakina was restless again

She dreamt of her Father, His presence she felt

Stretching wide her arms, she woke with a start

And peered in the darkness, her eyes seeking Him

She cried "Oh Mother, not a thing I can see

My Father was here, tell me where is Hue"

Everyone wept at Sakina's state

And so did the prison guard, hiding his face

And Yazid learned of Sakina's distress

That she's crying for her Father, for Him she prays

Inconsolable she weeps, nothing calms her down

She wants her Father, she wants Him now

"Then take His head" Yazid ordered his men

And Husain's severed head was carried thence

Its glory and radiance lighting the path

Fragrant and glorious Its noble presence

Sensing the approach, the prisoners hastily rose

impatiently Sakina waited by the door

Anxious to see Him, smiling through her tears

The air grew fragrant as His head drew near

With His halo the prison aura transformed

Gone with the gloom was Sakina's fear

In reception the prisoners lined up at the door

in respect and salutation Abid arose

To receive her Father, Sakina held out her dress

And hugged His head close to her chest

She kissed His forehead, His cheeks, His lips

The prisoners circled her in awe and respect

Where Zainab stood hair strewn, head bare

Husain's glance was affixed to her face

Holding her Father's severed head

Sakina sat on the floor and said

Words of love, of her loss, her pain

Then unconscious she was, close to death

Her face resting on her Father's face

She sighed, shuddered and took her last breath

Her silence at first gave no one alarm

For everyone thought she was feeling calm

But as the silence stretched, the mother said

"Wake up dear Sakina, pass the head to you Aunt"

Hearing no response, terror filled Banu’s heart

"She's fainted" said everyone, "Banu take heart"

Banu lifted Sakina into her arms

Saw the lifeless limbs, eyes shut, face calm

Neck limp, face drooping to her chest, not a sound

"what is this?" She cried, "What is this now?"

"What healer do I consult, where do I go?

The prison door is locked my dear, what do I do?"

She fanned Sakina's chest, lifting her shirt

"Pray my lady," she turned to Zainab and urged

She called out for Abid to come to her aid

"Come here my Son, Your sister won't stir"

"I'm trying to rouse her, I see no response

She's passed out I gather, but her breathing has stopped"

Feeling her pulse Abid moaned and tensed

And the mother cried "I have no more strength"

"Yet I'll face the truth, do not hide from me Son"

Abid replied "Dear mother, she is dead"

"Lay her down on the sand, let her rest

Her body is bruised, yet she's peaceful in death"

"In this dark prison my daughter is dead"

Banu cried "This death I will never forget"

And Fizza went to the prison door and asked

The guards for a lamp for the house of the dead

"No one keeps a body laying so in the dark

Yet our little girl lies in the prison night black"

With the light of dawn, the prison was lit

And Banu bent over Sakina and looked

Saw the bruised ears, dried blood on her neck

Her dress blood‑stained, tattered and burnt

Pale and gaunt, resting on the prison floor

Hair laden with dust, crying no more

"My dearest" She cried, "Wake up now

Its time for Namaz (Salat), your head you must bow

"You've never needed my help to wake up before

You'd wake on your own, what's happened now?"

"You know the guards' fury, do not so doze

This isn't home Sakina, they'll come to the door"

"The darkness troubled you, you couldn't rest

You'd pray for a breeze, you'd get upset

The breeze from heaven gill cool you tonight

in your new home Sakina my dear, sleep well"

"I hope you find comforts you couldn't find here

The grave is roomier than this prison my dear"


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Imam Abu Ja’far al-Baqir (‘a) said the following to al-Kumait when the latter recited for him his poem which starts with “Who shall solace a heart suffering from overflowing passion?”: “May you always be supported by the Holy Spirit.”1
When al-Kumait once sought permission of Imam as-Sadiq (‘a) during the days of tashriq to recite his poem to him, the Imam (‘a) thought it was quite a serious offence to recite poetry during such great days. But when al-Kumait said to him,

“It is composed about you (Ahl al-Bayt [as]),” the father of ‘Abdullah (‘a) became quite relaxed because doing so is obligatory due to its resulting in keeping the traditions of Ahl al-Bayt (‘a) alive. Then he called upon some of his family members to join them both, whereupon al-Kumait recited his poem. There was a great deal of weeping when he recited the verse saying,

Shooters hit thereby the mark the others are missing:
O last one led to misguidance by the first: Do listen!

It was then that Imam as-Sadiq (‘a) raised his hands and supplicated saying, “O Allah! Forgive al-Kumait's sins, the ones he committed, and the ones he will commit, the ones he hid, and the ones he revealed! And grant him, O Lord, of Your favours till he is pleased!2
Abu Ja’far Imam al-Jawad (‘a) permitted ‘Abdullah Ibn al-Salt to eulogize him and mourn his father Imam al-Riďa (‘a).
Abu Talib once wrote the Imam (‘a) seeking his permission to eulogize his father Imam al-Riďa (‘a), so he cut the parchment in which the poem was written and kept it with him, then he wrote him saying, “An excellent job you have done, and may Allah reward you with goodness.”3

Imam Abu ‘Abdullah, as-Sadiq (‘a), said to Sufyan Ibn Mis’ab, “Compose for me poetry about al-Husayn (‘a),” then he ordered Umm Farwa and his own children to be brought near them. Once they all gathered, Sufyan started his poem by saying,

“O Farwa! Be generous with your over-pouring tears.” It was then that Umm Farwa cried loudly, and so did the other women with her, whereupon Abu ‘Abdullah (‘a) shouted: “The door! (Close) the door!” The people of Medina assembled, so Abu ‘Abdullah (‘a) sent them a child who fainted (having become overwhelmed by emotion).4


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9. The first elegy on Al-Husayn

He said: Abu Ubaidullah Muhammad ibn Imran al-Marzabani reported to me from Muhammad ibn Ibrahim, who reported from Abdullah ibn Abu Saeed al-Warraq, who reported from Masood ibn Amru al-Jahdari, who reported from Ibrahim ibn Dahah, who said:

The first elegy recited for al-Husayn ibn ‘Ali, peace be upon him, was by Aqabah ibn Amru al-Sahmi, from the tribe of Banu Salim ibn Awf Ibn Ghalib:

"(After the tragedy of Kerbala) when the eye was content
(having seen enough) in this life, and (when) you fear in this
world, as its light has turned into darkness.
I passed by the grave of al-Husayn at Kerbala,

My tears rolled down copiously for him,
And I have since not stopped lamenting and weeping in sorrow,
my eyes are helped by its tears and the hearing by sigh.
And tears were shed, besides al-Husayn, on the group
whose graves surround him on both sides,

Salaams on the interred ones at Kerbala,
Yet, my salaams visiting them are too little for them,
Salaams to them in the evening and during the day,
conveyed by the wind blowing on it and by the dust it carries
And the groups of people continues to visit his grave,
whose musk and aroma exudes fragrance to them."



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Sheikh al-Saduq in his work Uyun Akhbar al-Redha narrated from Abu al-Hassan Dawud al-Bakri say that he had heard (De’bel’s son) Ali Ibn De’bel Ibn Ali al-Khoza’ee say, “When my father was about to die he changed colors, could not talk and his face turned black. I was about to quit following his religion (Islam), but after three days which passed like this I saw my father in my dreams wearing a white robe with a white cap on his head. I asked him, ‘O father! What has Allah done to you?’ He replied, ‘O son! When you saw my face turn dark and my tongue stopped from talking, it was because I used to drink wine in this world. I was that way until once I met Rasululah (saw) (here in the Hereafter) wearing a white robe with a white cap on his head. Then he asked me, ‘Are you De’bel?’ I said, ‘Yes, O Rasululah!’ Then the Prophet (saw) said, ‘Recite to me the poem that you recited for my son al-Redha (as).’ Then I recited it:

Allah will not let time laugh, if it were to laugh * While Ahmad’s Household are victims of injustice. * Indeed were they subjected to oppression * And were ruthlessly thrown out of their homes; * As if they had committed what cannot be forgiven.

Then Rasululah (saw) told me, ‘Excellent!’ Then the Prophet (saw) interceded on my behalf and gave me some of his clothes which you can see.’ He pointed to the clothes he was wearing.”

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Look at the heads atop the spears
and the eyes that are full of tears.
Husayn has gone and his sister is alone,
and her lonely sight is so hard to bear.
It will touch so many hearts of stone
but her suffering, so few shall share.
The daughter of Fatimah is full of sorrow.
In her path, so many woes have been steered.
She doesn’t know what will happen tomorrow.
She hasn’t finished wiping her tears.
The world has seldom seen such a bold woman.
So courageous and without a spec of fear.
She is so strong, that she can’t be broken.
Even by her loved ones’ heads, on the spears.
Her parents are Fatimah and ‘Ali, none other,
and to the Prophet Muhammad, she is so dear.
But this day, she is without her brother.
And no comfort seems to be near.
The people present, do nothing but stare.
For the victims, everyone should shed tears.
For the Prophet’s progeny, doesn’t anyone care?
The indifference of these "Muslims”is so severe.
Don’t all the people present, understand,
the noble family of the Prophet, has no peers?
Everyone’s salvation is verily in their hands.
Why’re they being driven, to the verge of tears?
This lady is not afraid to loose her life.
She speaks out against cruelty, without fear.
To spread her brother’s message, she strives,
breaking everyone’s heart with her silent tears.
On hurting the innocent, the cruel are bent.
But these wicked plots fail and she perseveres.
She faces calamity with her spiritual strength.
She is anguished, but holds back her tears.
The tyrants wanted to crush the struggle
but it shall never end and also our tears.
Everyone is moved, on hearing her troubles.
Karbala is and will be remembered each year.
In the stormy seas we’ve not yet set ashore,
many evil minds would want to stop our tears.
But this mourning will continue, forever more,
with cries of Yaa Husayn, ringing in our ears.


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Most Reverred Zainab (‘a) Returns to Karbala

The Chehlum1 for seventy two martyrs was done

And the bodies and the heads had finally become one

And Husain's slain army was remembered by all

And the children of Muhammad lamented His son

For three days and nights in the desert they mourned

Embracing His tomb as though never to be torn

Hearts lit like candles, their love for Him bloomed

Their sons, like flowers, scattered around His tomb

Remembering those killed, they cried out in grief

And clutched at their hearts and in pain swooned

" Where are those who would protect us?" they cried

"Now we wander, heads bare in broad daylight"

The air fraught with sobs as the widows wept

And the Noble Sister's face on His tomb did rest

And cried "Oh my beloved brother dear Husain

For three days and nights I've been Your guest"

"Heartbroken and forlorn is this Prophet's grandchild

For my services You didn't accept, what a plight"

"The will of the imam, I will gladly accept

But the bruises on my arms I haven't shown You yet

I am alone today, no friend in sight

Without You I am nothing, how can You forget?"

"I've lost sons and brothers and You in this war

my back is bruised with the tip of the spear"

"I cared for the orphans, the fathers lay dead

Their frail ages and captivity, the pain and the dread

To divert them from their misery, I narrated your tale

I was their mother, their aunt, or their father instead"

"And I will live on to see them suffer and die

For it is not my destiny to see beloveds thrive"

" I had imagined pilgrims surrounding Your tomb

And the throng of the angels had lifted the gloom

And in Your memorial, we would all gather here

Yet I see not a soul, I am here alone"

" By your graveside I sit my Brother, and weep

And console my heart though my pain is deep"

Saying this, Zainab inconsolable, sobbed

And the tomb of the Prince shuddered and rocked

And Basheer approached the Prince's son and said

"Oh Imam shall we leaves Your aunt is distraught"

And Abid toward His Aunt did turn

And asked "Dear Aunt shall we return."

And Zainab replied, "As you wish dear Imam"

The preparations to leave for Medina began

The tents were untied and the camels lined up

And around the graves gathered Ali's clan

Bidding farewell to those who slept in their graves

The old and the young stood around in a daze

At the thought of leaving her Brother's tomb

Distraught, Zainab cried " How can I leave You along

In this forsaken desert away from us all

This empty, desolate city now Your home"

"where nothing grows and nothing lives

Such a place You've chosen to gather and rest"

"Oh Noble Lord of Karbala, farewell

Oh the sands that cradle His shroud, farewell

Dear grave of the noble, lofty Prince, farewell

My Brother Your sister departs now, farewell"

"This Prophet's grandchild is unfortunate indeed

For You're not pleased with her deeds"

"How do I face Medina having left You herd

What if the Prophet questions, how can I bear?

If I go to Najaf, the same question I will face

`Where is Husain?' That is all I will hear"

"You've asked me to leave, so how can I stay?

But where must I go, where must I stay?"

"won't You come, hold my hand as I alight?

Won't You shelter me from strangers' sights?

Won't Abbas or Alder come to bid me farewell?

Won't You bring Asghar for whom Banu cries?"

"You're our leader come lead us ahead

we're ready, yet You sleep, the grave Your bed"

"Although I weep and call out Your name

You do not answer Oh Prince, I'm amazed

if only You would embrace me now

I will leave for Medina, though never the same"

The Prince then answered "My dear Zainab farewell

Give my love to Soghra, my daughter who is ill"


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. At the time of the martyrdom of Imam Husayn (a.s.) the jinns recited the following Nauha (Lamentation):

“Indeed the arrows shot towards Husayn (a.s.) actually were aimed at the Quran.

And by killing you, they have killed the Tahleel [There is no Allah except Allah] and Takbeer [Allah is the Greatest].

Then, as if they killed your grandfather Muhammad, upon whom Allah and Jibraeel send blessings.

O son of the martyrs. O the martyr who had the best of Uncles, Ja'far at- Tayyar, Who was also a martyr.

It is surprising of the swords that arose in the dust and their sharp edges fell on you.

O eyes do not stop weeping and weep on the chief of the martyrs.

He was martyred in Karbala and we are his mourners.

The female jinns weep with a deep sorrow and like the Hashemite ladies recite mournful elegies.

Dressed in black they recite elegies for the great tragedy that struck Imam Husayn (a.s.) and they slap their beautiful faces in grief.”

“Al-Manaqib" of Ibn Shar Ashub Vol. p.4/754, Kamiluz Ziyarat: 75; Amali of Sadooq, Majlis no. 27; Ilalush Sharze 1/217, Amali of Mufid; Biharul Anwar 45/201-241


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A Journey, a Poem about Karbala’

It was peak of the mischief and virtues in chains;

Just laws were sacked with rules insane;

As the tyrants on the rise, and mass confused,

offered lust with lies, and faith abused.

Thus the signs indicated, and time dictated.

Some souls elevated as Husayn(as) navigated;

a seed of the Prophet (P) and the sight of his Parents (as);

that time in deluge, he was ark so apparent.

In the Name of God, for the sake of Islam;

for the freedom of life and soul of Islam;

gave greatest sacrifice, but not his hands,

with the members of his kin and many of his friends.

Hurr, Muslim and the friends those hearts so pure;

they offered their lives as shield and cure;

thus tyrants came forth from the curtain way old;

then peace was bought and lives were sold.

And daring in the manners were the two young brothers;

in the boldness of their moves were the teachings of a mother;

Shone Aun and Muhammad with the valor known as Haider (as);

Those children were slain not the feeling of the mother.

With a message from his father was Qasim bin Hassan (as);

a radiant jewel of Islam was this glowing young son;

but Qasim into pieces with a bride day old;

on the sand in heat it was savage and cold.

Then the pride of the Hashims rode back from the river;

and the tyrants made sure that he did not deliver;

they cut off his arms, but spirit was set;

till an arrow hit the bag, only eyes got wet.

Fell ‘Abbas (as) from the horse, with no hands for support,

then Husayn (as) rushed to shore for a brother's end resort;

those children who waited with the patience were told;

and thirst in the camp was three days old.

Soon Akbar cam down with spear in his chest;

which a father had to pull so severe was the test;

He was image of the Prophet(P), and the life of Husayn(as),

He was vision of a mother and the eyes of Husayn (as)

Now the Leader was alone as he called for the help,

then a baby fell down; a response from the crib!

This thirsty, pure, infant was a son of Imam,

Who, acknowledged his father and the call of Imam.

Thus Husayn (as) brought him for some water in the field,

and showed them baby's dried lips and appealed;

but the six months old got an arrow so thick,

that turned him over and tore his neck.

Ali Asghar went to sleep, with his father and no fear;

with the cradle on the fire, and their head on spear;

and the mother's empty hand, with the tear dried eyes,

who looked for the baby to sing lullabies.

And a sister by the camp saw the horror of this trip;

as a knife tore the neck, where the Prophet (P) put his lips;

earth in grief, roared heavens and mourned,

Sand turned red when Husayn (as) was torn.

And a child full of tears with her tiny bleeding ears,

bruises on her face and her thirst so severe;

She ran for her father who laid beheaded,

and cried for the uncle for help she needed;

Sayyida Zainab (as) looked for her in the sadness of that night;

did inquire every soul in the land of the plight;

but Sakina was sleeping on the chest of a body;

with the love of the father, from the fragrance of his body.

Then the camp pushed down, while flames went up;

little children rushed out, as their dresses lit up;

it was night full of cries and the innocent quests;

shattered were the dreams and broken were the nests.

All defenses laid to rest, after trials and the tests;

left to face, one Imam, even history would detest,

who fainted with the illness faced torture and torment;

a Master of the pious and devotees' ornament.

Lashes on his back heavy chains on Imam;

but ladies were the prisoners, was the wound of Imam;

no chador for them but their rope tied arms;

and grief soared high from Kufa to Shaam.

But, the daughter of ‘Ali (as) challenged, miseries with the messages;

with the families in bazaars, and deadly courts of savages;

With the depth of the patience and the Zenith of Bravery;

Islam was rescued for ever from the slavery.


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About the martyrdom of Muslim and Hani, Abdullah Ibn Zubair Asadi44(according to another statement, Farazdaq45 recited thus:

If you do not know what death is, then look at Hani and the son of Aqil in the market field;

Tha t brave man whose face was disfigured with a sword and another one who was fell from the top of a wall;

These two were crushed under the feet of oppression and yet their names are on the tongues of everyone;


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Men weep for you today in many lands

And on their breasts in bitter anguish beat,

And in sad, mournful tunes, the tales repeat

Of how you lost your life upon the sands

You nobly spurned the tyrant's base demands

And Chose death to prevent your soul's defeat,-

Became a martyr with unflinching feet-

For these well may one weep who understands.

This sorrow at your death, despite the years

Is still as fresh, which Time has failed to quell

In every heart this day new pain appears

And of your sufferings men each other tell.

They see a vision through slow-falling tears

Of that lone battle where athirst you fell.



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Farewell, farewell, farewell, Oh Hussain!
These sounds of lamentation and these gatherings,
The decor of matam, noha and sorrow…
How I wish these hearts would always remain in this state!
Ah, my heart breaks, how can I bring myself to say….

Oh my Guest, this is my last salutation,
That I be sacrificed for you! This is my last salutation….
Oh King of the Dignified!  This is my last salutation…
My heart is empty, as this is my last salutation….

May any mistakes be forgiven,
I could not serve you as you so deserve,
It hurts me that I could not do matam till my heart was content,
For your sake why could I not have given my own head….

If I live another year, I will grieve again,
Everyone together will cry in your sorrow again,
But even if I die, this will always live on….
Oh, but what a shame, I didn't cry till my heart was content….

Farewell, oh Hussain, oh Hussain, farewell,
Farewell, oh King of the East and West, farewell!
Oh, the light of Ahmed's daughter's eyes, farewell!
On Mujahid's lips is the cry of farewell….


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