Kis Noor Ki Majlis Mein Meri Jalwagari Hai کس نور کی مجلس میں مری جلوہ گری ہے

Stanza 1

In the gathering of what light do I now appear,
the light that fills with light the light of these eyes?
At its very coming human reckoning is bewildered:
what picture is this, so full of splendour?
Though the rank of this beauty has not yet been told,
my pulpit has become equal in rank to Sinai.

Stanza 2

A hundred thanks that my gathering longs to hear me;
this is the bounty of the kindness of Husain and Hasan;
my old wit is once more in the fire of youth;
this is the strength that the King with parched lips lends me.
No painter has such an art of drawing:
I am showing you a picture; this is no mere speech.

Stanza 3

The painter takes up his brush and goes about it thus:
he draws a new form on the face of the paper.
Judge fairly: with the pen of my tongue, as I write,
I set down the picture on the page of the inner self.
The painter has filled his picture with a hundred colours,
but where in it is the brilliance of colourful themes?

Stanza 4

I am showing you the picture of one
who is called a second beloved of God;
when one light goes, another light comes.
I will tell you why Ahmad cast no shadow:
Ali Akbar, who came after Muhammad,
Ali Akbar was the shadow of Ahmad the Chosen.

Stanza 5

So far has my wit brought forth fresh speech:
he is the light of the Prophet, and the Prophet the light of God;
how far this chain of light has reached!
When you have seen Akbar, tell me, whom have you seen?
By Allah, Akbar is worthy to be visited;
Akbar is the best of substitutes for Ahmad the Chosen.

Stanza 6

But this picture gives you a sign:
come, you of the gathering, here is the good news of the garden of paradise!
If you mean to visit him, give yourselves to purification;
purification and the visit go hand in hand.
You discerning ones who sit here with this intent,
renew your ablutions with the water of tears.

Stanza 7

It is written that Hazrat Shabbir had this habit:
when he had finished the dawn prayer,
the Hazrat would first send for Ali Akbar,
and say, 'I am adding worship to worship;
why should the eyes of Husain son of Ali not shine?
I am beholding the beauty of the Prophet.'

Stanza 8

Ali Akbar would bow his head in greeting;
each time his head would touch his father's feet;
the noble Sayyid would rise to honour him;
Ali Akbar would say, 'Father, what are you doing?'
The King would say, 'This was the habit of God's beloved:
he would rise in honour of Batool, the pure maiden.

Stanza 9

Life of your father, I am bound to honour you:
from head to foot you are the image of my grandfather.'
Then, joining his hands, that young shoot of Shabbir
would bow his neck in modesty and say,
'Nobility reached its summit in the son of Ali;
you have set your feet upon the Prophet's shoulders.'

Stanza 10

Then the glorious King would kiss his forehead
and say, 'I would give my life for your sweet speech.'
When Zainab heard their tender exchange,
she cried, 'May my life be given for you both!
If no father was ever seen like the son of Ali,
has anyone heard of a son like this likeness of the Prophet?'

Stanza 11

Hear the proper way to visit Ali Akbar:
first cleanse your breast of all rancour;
then make the eye of your inner self an eye that sees,
so that the face of the Sultan of Medina may appear.
Then it is clear that Ali Akbar is a page of the Quran;
it is certain that Ali Akbar is the Kaaba of faith.

Stanza 12

This heart has shown how he is like the Quran:
is that a radiant forehead, or a tablet of gold?
In his brows the Bismillah of the Quran is seen;
the reciters have shown the ruled border in the sweep of his locks;
those locks and that nose are written as alif and lam,
and joined with the meem of his mouth they form Alif Lam Meem.

Stanza 13

And his likeness to the Kaaba of hearts is plainer still:
this black mole is the Black Stone set as his jewel;
Akbar's brow before us is the prayer-niche of the sanctuary;
this dimple of the chin is the equal of the well of Zamzam.
When I thought of that holy nose,
I saw a pulpit of light set within the Kaaba.

Stanza 14

See, Safa shows in Akbar's face;
here the heart of weeping Zainab runs its sa'i at every moment;
as the Kaaba is draped in black, O knower of God,
so here too dishevelled locks lie on the radiant face.
The heart of the King of the nations is bound in these locks:
it is the sanctuary lamp hanging on the Kaaba's chain.

Stanza 15

Who can tell the worth of his blessed feet?
If God grants understanding, they are the pillars of the Kaaba.
Judge fairly, and may God reward you for it:
should a faithless community throw down this pillar so?
If your eyes are on him, you have made the pilgrimage to the Kaaba;
this sight is the meaning of the Greater Pilgrimage.

Stanza 16

All come to it: such is the rank the Kaaba has won;
but when this qibla of faith and guidance came,
they took him for a deer of the sanctuary and wounded him,
and set rivers of blood flowing on every side.
God commands that sacrifice be made at the Kaaba;
but this Kaaba was itself sacrificed for the community.

Stanza 17

Ali Akbar's beauty cannot be told;
only the heart finds some delight in the eye of imagination.
If this stature is mentioned in a garden,
the cypress raises its forefinger in witness.
His forehead is a mirror brimming with clarity;
his brow is itself a qibla, and points the way to the qibla.

Stanza 18

Like a prayer at dawn, his stature reaches high;
his forehead is the preface to the lights of God;
two locks have encircled a moonlike face:
the Night of Power and the Night of Ascension have met.
There are two locks, and two heart-warming cheeks as well:
yes, two evenings, and, by God, two days as well.

Stanza 19

Since the dark eye lies beneath the arching brow,
the languid eye lifts up the hand of its lashes,
and beneath that arch they pray each time:
'May no harm come to this world-seeing eye.'
These are not locks; they are hyacinths that bear the mark of paradise;
these are not eyes; they are the dark-eyed narcissi of the world.

Stanza 20

The blueness of thirst that shows on his lips
is smoke rising from a fire of rubies;
the furrow that his brow takes on in anger each time
the unbelievers take for the gleam of a Sirohi blade;
his brow, filled with every blessed hair,
has by a miracle set spears within a sword.

Stanza 21

In these brows and this nose I found this likeness:
like a forefinger pointing at the Eid moon.
God made this lamp of the sanctuary a shadow of His oneness;
the diver of my wit has brought up this new pearl.
Finding every feature written to perfection,
the painter of both worlds laid down his pen here.

Stanza 22

The first down has appeared on his rosy cheeks:
someone has written the Quran on a rose petal.
This eye and this stature show a miracle of beauty:
look, you who can see, an almond grows on a cypress.
The quiver of his lashes strikes harder than arrows;
to the enemy it is a splinter of diamond in the heart.

Stanza 23

His ears beneath the curling locks give a sign:
to the onlooker they are two flowers hidden in hyacinth.
Who has the power to describe the beauty of his ear-lobes?
Look: a star is dripping from the sun.
In the hour of breaking the ranks his face is beaded with sweat:
every drop upon that sun is a hyacinth of Yemen.

Stanza 24

His upturned lashes give this sign:
all is ready for his life to turn away.
If these spears of his lashes have bent at last,
it is from dread that some spear may strike Akbar.
When in the blink of an eye the sky turns against him,
he will be ringed with spears, as this eye is with lashes.

Stanza 25

Are those lips, or a river of grace in full flood,
at whose height a wave has risen from the sea of God's power?
In delicacy they are without equal, yet to the eye they are a pair:
two lips, with the army of thirst on every side.
His eyes are closed, his lips are dry, and he is near fainting;
the tongue in his mouth is a fish in a river of thirst.

Stanza 26

With what mouth can anyone now praise his pearl-like teeth,
beside which the pearls of Aden are worth little?
When he smiled they shone like stars.
This theme is fit only for those who love a hard task.
It is a general rule that no human can praise them
until he has rinsed his mouth with the water of pearls.

Stanza 27

Is that a neck, or a fountain of the eternal light?
These shoulders stand level with the Prophet's shoulders.
Is that a breast, or a mirror of the nature of the One?
The heart shows clearly: this is the mirror.
Tell me, what is the rank of these forearms and shins?
These four are, as it were, fish in a river of purity.

Stanza 28

For generations this line has stood shoulder to shoulder with the Prophet;
but the wronged King rode upon the Prophet's back,
and this one has sat again and again on Shabbir's back.
From the crown of his head to the nails of his feet he is all light.
What is the difference between Moses and this moon-faced one?
There the White Hand was in the hand; here it is in the sole of the foot.

Stanza 29

And on his body the weapons of war are finely arrayed:
this is no helmet but the shadow of God's favours;
this is no spear but Shabbir's hand raised in prayer,
or the far-reaching cry of grieving Bano.
In the four plates of his breastplate reflections fall on four sides:
or the pure Panjtan stand there to help him.

Stanza 30

Shabbir would give his life for his form and face;
do not ask what has become of Zainab;
Abid is in great anguish at parting from him;
Bano's head is bowed to the dust with this grief.
These are not four flowers that adorn the shield:
they are the scars on the hearts of these four, set on the shield.

Stanza 31

This sword is the key to the door of fortune and victory;
for it the door of a wound stands open on every side.
These are not the rings of his mail: his body is the envy of the moon,
and a hundred eyes of the discerning are pressed against it.
His horse is of earth, but its clay is kneaded with the water of life:
in heat it is fire, in speed it is wind.

Stanza 32

In the eye of my imagination I began to draw its picture,
but it was so swift that no device could hold it in my mind;
when, as I wrote, I bound it fast in a theme,
my pen cried out that it had captured a fairy;
but when the rein of my imagination slackened on this side,
like passing life it vanished from sight.

Stanza 33

Tell me, how can I set down the speed of this horse?
The letters vanish like a word struck out.
Whatever swiftness means in both worlds
is known neither here nor there.
Wherever its praise is written on the page,
every letter at once runs off like an ant.

Stanza 34

Well, believers, have you seen the image of the Prophet?
But at what a moment I have shown you this face:
when father and son are being parted.
He is glad only that he too has been given leave to fight;
he himself is set free from the prison of affliction,
while here his mother and father are ruined for nothing.

Stanza 35

His eighteenth year weighed so heavily upon him;
whose evil eye struck him like a mortal sword?
All the hopes of his mother and father were ruined;
so the moonlike image went from before their eyes.
This was the day of longings, of wishes, of dreams;
after eighteen years of raising him, this was his age to die.

Stanza 36

His mother was saying, 'Son, call me to your side;'
the King was saying, 'Quench the fire in this breast;'
Sajjad was crying, 'Lift me from my bed;'
Sakina was saying, 'Put my cap on me;'
Zainab kept saying, 'Good people, what is this?
The eighteen-year-old too is going off to die!'

Stanza 37

Akbar's state is such that he stands face to face with death;
he waits only for the King of the martyrs to come;
when he stops speaking, he gives himself to weeping.
From the day he was born, that light of God
has been held close to his mother's and father's breasts;
and today, when he goes out, he goes to die.

Stanza 38

The son went off over there to die;
here the King struck his head against the pole at the tent's door;
when Bano cried out on this side, 'Alas, my son!',
it struck his heart like a second blow.
He says, 'Ali Akbar is going away before me,
but I cannot see Ali Akbar.'

Stanza 39

He sits on the dust with his head bowed;
he says, 'This is the seat of the King of the martyrs.'
Now and then he raises his head, and this is his prayer:
'Here, today I have offered this son too to You;
I accept; give me the wound of losing my son,
but on this condition: that You grant me patience.

Stanza 40

I am Your lowliest servant: what strength have I?
If my heart can bear this wound, that is the joy of it.
My own departure too is now being made ready;
this delay is only for an hour or two.
A strange calamity has fallen on Bano;
O Lord, I am deeply troubled for Your handmaid.

Stanza 41

That sorrowing woman came here leaving royalty behind,
and You gave her the honour of Shabbir's bed;
she freed her maids, giving them estates;
the son she was given was the image of Muhammad.
Yes, this one treasure was granted to support her,
and it has been ruined at the hands of the community.'

Stanza 42

My whole family is holding her by the arms;
she says, 'People, tell me, has my darling come back?
No one has struck him with a spear yet;
if he is alive, why has he not called me yet?
Now my moon-browed one is in the snare of death;
without me he has no peace for a moment.'

Stanza 43

When he came laughing, meaning to take his leave,
he said, "Mother, may God give you patience now."
I said softly, "Lay your head against me;
my life for you; may Allah quench your thirst."
Seeing the word of farewell leave his lips,
how respectfully he had just been bowing to me!

Stanza 44

Good people, now seat Bano on the dust;
if there is a black mourning shift, bring it and dress me in it;
lay a dressing of dust upon this womb;
show me the road by which he went.
My darling has set out in this burning sun;
who knows what the thirst has brought him to by now?'

Stanza 45

Zainab said, 'Alas, where will you go, sister-in-law?
The noble King stands blocking the door of the tent;
your Asghar is dying: lady, pick him up.'
Bano said, 'Ah, what do I know of anyone now?
There is no hope that Asghar has more than a few breaths left;
the earnings of my eighteen years are being plundered.'

Stanza 46

Such is the scene of despair here; now hear the scene in the wilderness:
there Ali Akbar rides gladly towards the field,
with all the majesty and glory of God's Throne;
he comes in great state, like a sultan.
The herald of death says, 'Be fair:
see what a young lion is going out to die!'

Stanza 47

On one side Glory holds his stirrup,
and on the other Triumph holds his rein;
Fortune runs on ahead like a footman;
Prosperity and Victory hold a parasol over him in service.
The wilderness is filled with light on all four sides,
and Beauty herself carries his saddle-cloth on her shoulder.

Stanza 48

Such an awe-inspiring coming is found neither in a hundred thousand nor in a hundred:
Ahmad the Chosen rides in his train, clutching his heart;
the spirit of the Lion of God comes sweeping along;
and Fatima runs hard behind his horse;
clinging to the very dust of his riding
comes the soul of Husain son of Ali.

Stanza 49

There, in the army, everyone stares in wonder;
each one is so stunned that he cannot move;
each says, 'Look how the light shines!
God-given beauty drips from every limb;
what light, what majesty, what splendour!
Here even the sun is like a lamp at dawn.

Stanza 50

If we take him for the Caesar of Rome, we are right;
if we call him the Emperor of China, he is more than that;
if we call him the Khaqan of Khotan, that is an error;
call him a jinn, but where among the jinn is such beauty and light?
By Allah, happy the father whose son he is!
His nobility shows that he is a pearl of Najaf.'

Stanza 51

'Go and give him gifts, and bring him into this army;
make him your commander and all of you serve under him;
hold this jewelled parasol over his holy head;
send for Shabbir and show him this sight.
They take great pride in the Prophet's house:
here this one is a match for Husain son of Ali.

Stanza 52

Better still, send for him and say, "Well, lonely King,
you made great claims for Akbar's beauty;
now bring them both and stand them side by side:
the world is full of Allah's servants of every kind.
Though Akbar's beauty is of this very kind,
tell us, glorious King, is this the glory?"'

Stanza 53

The army was in this perplexity when Ali Akbar
stepped forward on the field and began to recite his boasts:
'I am the rose-robed Joseph of the Prophet's grandson,
seeking the autumn of the garden of my mother's longing.
This is my lineage on my mother's side and on my father's:
one is the King of Persia, the other the Emperor of Arabia.

Stanza 54

I am a sultan in a shroud, one who knows the door of God;
I am sorrowful; no remedy at all has come for me;
I am the grandson of the King of Men, and through my mother of Chosroes;
the wronged son of the wronged, the thirsty son of the thirsty.
Come, someone, and quickly blot out my image;
come, someone, and strike your lance into my breast.'

Stanza 55

As soon as they heard this, a tumult rose at once in the army;
they thought, 'This is the son of Haidar-e-Karrar.'
Wicked Umar ibn Saad kept urging them on,
but not one of them would set himself to kill him;
they said, 'Even if corpses fall on corpses,
we will not fight this darling of the world, we will not!'

Stanza 56

But here in Akbar's heart was only this thought:
'At the hands of these people my dear uncle was killed;
by Allah, these Muslims are worse than fire-worshippers;
were they human, they would know us for human.
Since my heart is full of longing to break their ranks,
take the name of Ali and set about the swordplay.'

Stanza 57

As soon as he took the strung bow down from his shoulder,
he drew the string back to his ear, as fate would have it;
cheek, arrowhead and bow made this sign:
a sun, and the Bow among the stars, and a star within it.
And so swiftly did he loose, blow upon blow,
that an arrowhead stood in every rider's horse.

Stanza 58

Akbar said, 'My house is famous:
it is not our custom to strike the first blow;
now it has become my duty to use the sword on you.
Why, you tyrants, destroy the family of Muhammad like this?
I could kill you all: what are you before me?
If I had water, there would be some joy in fighting.'

Stanza 59

When the whole army was wounded, they grew angry;
in a rage the accursed men pushed their banners forward;
the standards showed their splendour at the head of the army;
here the prince pressed his horse with his thighs.
The flame of light itself was burning up existence:
the flame of Sinai shone out on all four sides.

Stanza 60

So great was the surge of the army's black cloud
that the moon of Husain son of Ali was hidden;
the dust of the horses' hooves rose over the field;
the eye of the shining sun went dark.
The souls of the enemy were leaving their bodies;
Akbar stitched their shrouds with the needles of his lashes.

Stanza 61

Here he dealt wounds with the spear, there with the sword:
here the image of his nose, there of his brow, there of his eye.
So intently did the old sky watch that young shoot of Shabbir
that it wore the sun as its spectacles.
His spear would pierce a breastplate and pass out the other side
as the gaze passes clean through spectacles.

Stanza 62

The water of the sword's edge brought on a flood;
it was the wave of death, and the water went over their heads;
that army was a river, and every ring of mail a whirlpool;
severed limbs lay about like fish out of water.
The lives of the standard-bearers hung on the water of the dagger's edge:
when he raised his sword, the standards were cut clean through.

Stanza 63

So the sword came out from within the scabbard,
as a thorn bursts out through the skin;
it is fitting to call it a drop of water,
yet fire blazed out from that water.
That spear was a cypress, but for the wicked a gallows in the air;
that cypress felled the cypress-tall.

Stanza 64

The sword, in its colour the image of a diamond,
became a branch of coral, so red was it with blood;
the accursed men loosed their arrowheads in unbroken volleys;
the shields in their hands were riddled like sieves, like their mail.
The eyes of the mail-clad, proud in the strength of their courage,
were caught in a moment in the net of death.

Stanza 65

The skulls of the enemy were being kicked about;
they looked like ostrich eggs.
The eagles of his arrows showed themselves thus,
making their prey of the hearts of the enemy army:
with a single arrow the hearts of a hundred were wounded,
as a thread passes through a hundred beads.

Stanza 66

In a moment the whole army was scattered;
it halted in one place and gathered again.
The son of Saad shouted to the commanders,
'For God's sake, quickly use some trick against Akbar;
he has the strength of three, though this brave one is alone:
he is Haidar, he is the Prophet, he is Husain son of Ali.'

Stanza 67

There were two men in the army, famous in both Iraqs:
one was Ibn Ali, the other proud Saleh;
those accursed men were the masters of the Arabs in the art of the spear.
After conferring together they rode out from the army:
one came face to face with Akbar to strike and kill,
the other came at his back, shaking his spear.

Stanza 68

So the bloodthirsty spears of both began to strike;
he stood parrying the blows, now of one, now of the other;
a flash of lightning turned and turned back each time;
his horse was a steed that moved as if made by clockwork.
That was no spear: it had become a whirling flame;
it made a wondrous halo round the moon of his face.

Stanza 69

The angels said, 'We give ourselves for Akbar's courage:
it is as if God's beloved were at Uhud and Badr.'
The jinn said, 'Today Ali himself is hot in battle:
he fights two at once, yet keeps his wits about him.'
The houris said, 'If Zahra permits,
we will bring a brimming cup of Kausar and give it to him now.'

Stanza 70

The Lady of the Resurrection said to the houris,
'This fierce thirst will last only an hour or so more;
what will become of his grief-stricken mother?
The King of the guardianship has gone to fetch this son;
in a moment Akbar's heart will take this spear;
houris, Akbar is coming to the bank of Kausar.'

Stanza 71

Here, as fate would have it, Saleh struck from behind;
Akbar turned and speared him then and there;
but that one turning brought the whole calamity down:
he pitched forward on his head, with no strength left to breathe.
There the King fell; in the tent Bano fainted:
one spear had pierced three hearts.

Stanza 72

When the lance broke through his heart and came out at his back,
Akbar shuddered, and a cry rose from his breast;
Allah, what courage! He pulled the spear out then and there;
though he struggled hard to hold on, he fainted.
When death spread over that despairing heart,
with what despair he laid his head on the saddle-bow!

Stanza 73

Lances, spears and swords came from every side;
his turban was torn to shreds, his locks cut away;
he said, 'Nowhere can I catch my father's scent.'
His horse did all it could to save him;
he had no protector there but the Panjtan;
they cut his body to pieces as they pleased.

Stanza 74

On every side men began to leap for joy;
amid this din the drum sounded the march;
they said, 'Do not let the wounded man get away';
and there Death seized the horse's rein.
It could find no way to get out from there;
the horse moved on like a bier.

Stanza 75

Here suddenly Akbar's heart called out to the King:
'Why do you sit there? Over there the drums of rejoicing are beating;
the enemy has blotted out the image of your grandfather.'
The Hazrat threw his turban down in the dust there and then
and called to Zainab, 'Sister, Akbar is dead;
watch over your sister-in-law: Akbar has gone on his journey.'

Stanza 76

It is written that Shabbir gave such a cry there
that the whole wilderness of affliction shook;
the darling of God's lion was as distraught
as a lion that by some chance has lost its cub.
When he cried, 'Alas, Ali! Woe, Ali!',
the Throne of the One God swayed.

Stanza 77

The angels said, 'Unite the King with Akbar,
or else give us leave to go down into the world;
give us leave for the world, and the order to fight,
and wipe these tyrants off the page of existence.
He is Jacob, and this wilderness is his House of Sorrow:
quickly, restore to him his rose-robed Joseph!'

Stanza 78

The Creator's voice came to the angels: 'Go,
take him and show him the body of his son;
bring the grieving one to the son he has lost;
if Shabbir allows it, share his grief and pain.
I have set this grief upon him for this reason:
this patience of Husain son of Ali is pleasing to Me.'

Stanza 79

When the noble King came up close to the army,
he said to every one of them, 'For God's sake, tell me
on what dust you have all brought down my moon;
my son is lost; do not bar my way.
I have every right that my state is now so changed:
has any father in the world a son like Akbar?

Stanza 80

What a son of mine you have all killed!
I hear you have wounded his whole heart.
Look at me, his father, who stood lost in watching him:
my heart shook when he called out, "O father!"
See, I cannot see a man standing near me;
now my eyes can make out nothing at all.

Stanza 81

With your cruelty you have swept my whole house clean;
what dear ones of mine you have slaughtered thirsty!
Whoever has the least trace of mercy in him,
let him take my hand now, in fear of God;
show me the road by which he went;
only show me the body of Ali Akbar from afar.

Stanza 82

If you are afraid, come, take my sword and shield;
if there is fear in your hearts, make me your prisoner;
walk all round me and keep me in your midst;
give me my son, and take the head from my body.
Have mercy on a Sayyid, thinking him a Muslim;
do you feel no pity even thinking him human?'

Stanza 83

Suddenly this voice reached his ears from afar:
'Why, revered father, have you been so long?
At what a moment you have forgotten me!
Has mother heard of this or not?
There stands the Angel of Death before me;
come quickly: the pain in my heart is great.'

Stanza 84

Hearing this voice, his heart took some comfort;
he cried out, 'Your father is searching for you;
what can I do, son? The fault is not mine.'
At last he made his way to the body:
he saw the horse sitting on the ground,
the body on the dust, the neck resting in the saddle.

Stanza 85

His hand lay on his chest and the blood was welling up;
blood came out haltingly with every breath;
his face was pale like the setting sun;
sweat had come on his brow and his heart was leaping.
Though his eyes had long been longing for his father,
now they opened and now they closed.

Stanza 86

Unbidden, the wronged King cried out then,
'See, life of your father, I have come to you.'
He could not speak, so he made signs with his brows:
'Set your sandals upon my breast;
I have no longing for life, nor for the world, nor for Kausar;
at this moment I long only for my mother's lap.'

Stanza 87

The Hazrat first took him gently in his arms,
then lifted him like a flower and laid him on the horse.
Akbar said, 'Ah, my wound is raw!'
The King said, 'And this cry is an arrow in my heart;
how can I carry you in such pain?
How can I bring you alive to your mother?

Stanza 88

If the pain is like this, Akbar, you will pass away;
you will die before you even reach your mother, Akbar;
you will leave your old father helpless, Akbar;
I too will go wherever you go, Akbar.
It would be best if you could let her see you one last time;
it would be best if you could reach your mother alive.'

Stanza 89

Husain himself set off bareheaded,
the Sultan of the age holding the rein himself;
he said, 'Horse, step gently;
do not hurt the wound in Akbar's heart;
the body of Bano's son is shattered, horse;
I mean to show him to her, horse.'

Stanza 90

The horse moved on, however haltingly,
but at every step here his breath began to fail;
it had not gone ten or twenty steps together
when his breathing took a different turn;
the tent was close, yet with that little jolting
the soul of Ali Akbar went to the gardens of paradise.

Stanza 91

Here Bano caught sight of the King's shadow;
she cried, 'My lord, tell me, has my Joseph come?
Why have you laid him across the horse?
Why has he bowed his cheek on the saddle-bow?
Where is that vigour, that strength, that might?
My young lion lies with his arms hanging limp!'

Stanza 92

When they came close, she saw that he was dead;
she stretched out her arms to embrace the dead;
the women of Muhammad's house raised a terrible cry;
together they lifted him in their arms and brought him into the tent.
Even in death that lion bore a great majesty:
a moon lay there, drowned in blood.

Stanza 93

So Bano sat down and took his head on her knee;
lifting his locks, she uncovered his moonlike face;
she cried, 'Good people, come and console me;
I will recite the lament; you say, "Alas, alas, Ali Akbar!"
Here, people, Bano's treasure has been ruined;
the labour of my eighteen years is gone, people!

Stanza 94

Akbar's wise words now strike me like arrows:
when he had cleverly won the King's leave to fight,
he said, "If you will, mother, forgive me now the debt of your milk,"
and as he spoke his tongue stammered with shyness.
I said, "I would give my life for you, Ali Akbar;
these streams of milk are offered up for you, Ali Akbar."

Stanza 95

Then Bano lifted her hand from that wound,
bowed her face and pressed the wound to her eyes;
when a mother's love surged up within her,
Akbar's heart came out by way of that wound;
all looked on as, in the way of overflowing love,
it clung a long while to his mother's mouth.

Stanza 96

And a voice came: 'Not a drop of water came to my hand;
mother, I stayed thirsty, thirsty, thirsty;
now let go of my robe, you who know God:
now the grandson of Muhammad is going out to die.
You have wailed so over my body
that you have troubled this soul so full of longing.'

Stanza 97

Hearing this, heart-wounded Bano fainted;
all crowded round her at once in alarm;
in that moment's respite, with eyes raining blood,
the King of the righteous lifted the body and carried it out.
No one is left now but Ali Asghar;
now it is the cruel dagger and the throat of the King of the faith.

Stanza 98

The year I wrote this praise of the Prophet's likeness
was the year twelve hundred and forty-nine of the Prophet's Hijra.
Before this, no one had such a manner of speech;
now all have become imitators of this new style.
Among ten or among a hundred I say it; it is my constant refrain:
whoever writes in this style is my pupil.

Stanza 99

Come, pen, enough: there is no strength left to write more;
may your writing have still greater power to move.
Zameer now says: for the sake of the sorrowing King,
the beloved of Ali, the life of the Prophet, Hazrat Shabbir,
may God give me only this reward for this marsiya:
for Akbar's sake, may He keep my children alive.