المجالس العاشورية في المآتم الحسينية

And count Ali, lord of virtues and lofty heights,
and Fatima al-Zahra, the best of daughters,
and Hamza and al-Abbas, men of faith and piety,
and Ja'far the soaring, among the veiled ones of paradise.
Those are made wretched by Hind and her faction,
by Sumayya—of the foolish and the foul.
They are the ones who barred the fathers from taking their right,
and they are the ones who left the sons hostage to dispersion.
I shall weep for them as long as a rider makes pilgrimage to God,
and as long as a dove laments upon the branches.
O my eye, weep for them, and be generous with tears,
for the time has come for outpouring and flowing.
The house of Ziyad in fortresses impregnable,
and the family of God's Messenger in the open wastes.
The dwellings of God's Messenger have become desolate,
while the house of Ziyad dwells in the chambers.
The family of God's Messenger—their bodies wasted away,
while the house of Ziyad—coarse and thick of neck.
The family of God's Messenger—their throats run with blood,
while the house of Ziyad—lords of the bridal canopies.
The family of God's Messenger—their women taken captive,
while the house of Ziyad rest secure in their refuges.
When wronged, they extend toward those who wronged them
hands withheld from vengeance.
I shall weep for them as long as a rising sun scatters its light upon the earth,
and as long as the herald of good calls to the prayers,
and as long as a sun rises and its setting draws near—
by night I weep for them, and in the early mornings. (1)

He came to al-Walid with young men, each of whom found
bitter death sweeter than his humiliation.
He stationed them at the door—but when there rose
the voice of the chief, they fell upon his enemy,
and surrounded him like lions, and ground down
the nose of the foe, so he returned to his authority.
Would that they had been at al-Taff, when he was struck down
before them, and lay upon the sand dunes,
and became alone, the enemy aiming for him
with archers shooting at him and lancers with their spears,
and he cried for help, with none to answer him save
a voice of grief from the weeping of his women,
who would have risen to aid him, each one saying:
"At your service, O caller of our Lord," with his tongue,

racing one another to the fight, and before him
standing to receive the arrows upon their bodies. (1)

Truly the slain one of al-Taff, from the family of Hashim,
has humbled necks of Quraysh, and they were humbled.
The beloved of God's Messenger was never given to vileness;
your calamity has laid bare the noses and grown vast.

I weep for Hussein, a master,
and for his slaying the hair turned gray.
For his slaying you were shaken,
and for his slaying the moon was eclipsed,
and the horizons of the sky turned red
in the evening and at dawn,
and the sun of the lands was changed
by them, and the regions grew dark.

That is the son of Fatima, by whose affliction
all creatures and humankind were struck.
By him she bequeathed us humiliation,
the cutting of the noses along with the disgrace. (1)

The fair-faced one through whose countenance rain is sought,
sustenance of orphans, protection for widows.
The perishing ones of the family of Hashim circle round him,
and at his side they are in bounty and abundant favors.

Truly the slain one of al-Taff, from the family of Hashim,
has humbled necks of Quraysh, and they were humbled.
The beloved of God's Messenger was never given to vileness;
his calamity has laid bare the noses and grown vast.

They are no people who can overcome the son of Ghalib,
but by the knowledge of the unseen the matter has been decreed.

Not only Umm Hani—her state was grieved
by Hussein's departure from the city of his grandfather,
but rather the noble grave and the one within it,
and his pulpit, weep on account of his loss.

What will you say, if the Prophet should say to you:
What have you done, you who are the last of the nations,
with my progeny and my family after my passing?
Some of them captives, and some drenched in blood. (2)

By my father, Hussein, when the enemy drove him out
from the land of Tayba—he bade farewell to his loved ones.
He bade farewell to the pure ones, the people of the Cloak,
at their graves, when he was resolved to depart.
And at his departure she bade him farewell, and sought
in place of the visitation a place for visiting—
until, when he became a corpse at Karbala,
she visited him in a state more grievous still to her,
and found him with his noble head severed, his limbs
scattered, and saw a finger cut from him. (4)

When the eye was gladdened in life, while you
lived in fear in this world, its light grew dark.
I passed by the grave of Hussein at Karbala,
and upon it my abundant tears poured down.
I ceased not to mourn him and weep for his sorrow,
while my eye aided me with its tears and its sobbing.
And I wept, after Hussein, for bands of men
whose graves surrounded him on both his sides.
Peace be upon the people of the graves at Karbala—
and little it is from me, a peace that visits them.
A peace, in the evenings and in the forenoon,
borne by the gusting winds and their stirrings.
May the visitors never cease, the pilgrims to his grave,
upon whom its musk and its perfume waft. (1)

The drunken ones of Umayya pass the night sleeping,
while at al-Taff lie the slain, their kin sleeps not.
None slew Islam but a band
whose fool became commander and whose chief lay sleeping.
So the spear-shaft of the faith came into the hand of a tyrant—
whenever a side of it bent, he did not set it straight. (2)

Alas for them—not one noble among them met his end
by his own natural death, but only by poison and the sword.
The house of Harb transgressed against them in their crimes,
and fell upon them, cloaked in their misdeeds.
How many noble ones of them they butchered at al-Taff,
in thirst, with their blades, as one butchers grazing flocks!
O for the heads upon the lances, and the ribs
crushed by the horses of the foe beneath their hooves!
O for the flesh washed by its own blood,
and shrouded by the weaving of the gentle breezes!
And alas for the grandson of the Prophet, driven back
from the water by the filth of the ruthless enemies. (2)

I would ransom Hussein when, departing in haste,
he bade farewell to a grave wherein the weight of prophethood was laid.
He came to bid it farewell, while his heart
with the blades of parting was nearly torn apart.
He poured out to it the sighs of his sorrows,
in his complaint, while his eyes scattered the tears:
O grandfather, enough for me is what I endure of suffering
in this world that robs me of sleep.
And he answered him: Be patient, my son, against the harm,
until you attain by this the highest station.
God has bestowed upon you a matter that could not be
attained save by martyrdom—its path made smooth for you.
It is as though I see you, O my son, at Karbala,
become slaughtered by the swords, cut to pieces.
And he was seen, in the presence of Zainab,
he and the Legatee and his mother al-Zahra together,

cast upon the burning sand of the noonday heat upon the dust,
the hooves trampling his breast and his ribs—
at a place of slaughter where his blood was shed.
I ransom with my own soul that place of his slaying. (1)