Kya Ghaziyan-e-Fauj-e-Khuda Naam Kar Gaye کیا غازیانِ فوجِ خدا نام کر گئے

Stanza 1

What a name the warriors of God's army won!
Thirsty, they fought hundreds of thousands and did their task;
They secured the forgiveness of the community;
Like a cloud of mercy they spread their bounty to all.
When they are spoken of, all recite blessings;
Such men were they that the angels weep for them.

Stanza 2

Devout, ready to give their heads, brave and firm of faith,
Swords in their hands and the remembrance of God in their hearts,
They took the wounds on their tall bodies for the flowers of their desire;
Such manhood in thirst, such fighting in God's way while starving!
Which of their joints had the swords not cut?
Yet not one of them drew back his foot from the battle.

Stanza 3

Though the ancient sky go on turning for years,
It will never see their like anywhere:
Feet as fair as theirs, or faces like the shining moon,
Before whom the sun is a worthless mote.
Blood-soaked robes on their bodies, their breasts held high,
They reached the gardens of Paradise dressed as bridegrooms.

Stanza 4

Rustam could not raise his head before them;
The hearts of lions trembled before them;
The moonlight was pale before them;
The colour fled from the face of dawn before them.
God had given light to every one of those fine souls;
When they left their homes at night, it became day.

Stanza 5

On their foreheads shone the star of prostration;
When the angels saw their light, they recited blessings;
Majesty, gallantry and splendour shone from their faces;
Devoted to the Family, enamoured of the Necessary Being,
They died praying for the life of the King of the faith;
They died having polished the mirror of faith.

Stanza 6

The company of the Imam had worked its effect on them;
Even in their death throes God's name was on their dry lips;
The cups of their hearts brimmed with love for Haidar;
Men of worth and understanding, brave and blessed in their deeds;
When the armies of Syria and Rum fell upon them,
How gladly they took the swords upon their bodies!

Stanza 7

Chosen out of hundreds of thousands, peerless among thousands,
Their kindness fell like rain-clouds on dry and wet alike;
That light, that majesty, that splendour, that lustre!
Moons of Zahra's house, suns of the age!
Then all at once a kind of darkness spread over the world;
The day had not yet declined when their decline came.

Stanza 8

When the lamps of Aqeel's grave had been put out,
And Jafar's darlings had scarred the King's heart,
He had not yet finished mourning his nephews
When the garden of Hasan Mujtaba was trampled.
Should he carry the bodies, or fight, or weep?
What can one do on whom such mountains of calamity fall?

Stanza 9

The blow was this: his father's treasure began to be plundered;
The sons of the Lion of God went out to battle;
When those lions fell fighting in God's way,
The renowned Abbas took leave of Husain;
Rivers of blood flowed; there was great slaughter;
Noon was declining when the standard was brought low.

Stanza 10

In old age the news of a young man's death is a calamity:
The King of men and jinn trembled and fell upon the sand;
The women came out of the tent beating their heads;
In the house of Ali there was such turmoil, God protect us!
The house of the Imam of Hijaz was thrown into confusion
As when a ship's anchor breaks.

Stanza 11

There was a cry: "The water-bearer of the Household is drenched in blood;
The water-bearer of the Household has departed this world;
We are plundered; the water-bearer of the Household is gone;
Woe, the water-bearer of the Household is dead!
Alas, alas, where shall we find our water-carrier now?
To whom will the children show their parched tongues now?"

Stanza 12

The tent shook, so loudly did the King's household weep;
Abbas's wife was shattered by the blow;
She cried out, "Show me the way to the river!
I have been plundered in this wilderness of calamity, alas, alas!"
Husain was bowed down: a mountain of calamity had fallen on him;
The women mourned at Sakina's lament.

Stanza 13

Here there was mourning; there the wicked were celebrating;
There the drums of victory and triumph were beating;
There Umar ibn Saad was handing out rewards to everyone;
Here the Hazrat wept, looking this way and that.
There was a cry: "Enough, Husain, you have wept enough for your brother;
If you have another young man, send him out to fight!"

Stanza 14

"If no one is left, come out to battle yourself;
Show us the temper of Haidar's Zulfiqar;
Take the wounds of spearhead, dagger and sword;
It is very hot today: bathe in blood.
We have long been ready for the fight;
Our swords are burnished and our daggers sharp."

Stanza 15

"That which cut off the arms of the Commander's beloved son,
That matchless sword, is keen indeed;
The arrow that pierced the water-skin is here;
Here is every mace by whose blow he met his end;
That by which he writhed and let the water-skin fall from his teeth
Is this lance, which came out breaking through his side."

Stanza 16

"You are very patient, they say, O King of men and jinn;
Yet such wailing and lament at the loss of one brother!
Weeping will not bring the young Abbas back to life;
Whom are you calling, sir? Where is your brother now?
When is one who has gone ever found again in the world?
Now look to yourself: that lion is dead."

Stanza 17

Akbar cast a furious look towards the army of Syria;
He shook with such rage that his sword began to leap from its sheath;
Folding his hands he said, "O Qibla of mankind,
Do you hear what the enemy army is saying?
The blood boils in my body; it is the hour of battle;
My master, my patience is at an end."

Stanza 18

"Whose heart has the strength to bear their words?
Your servant will answer them with the tongue of the sword;
What do these ruined wretches imagine?
If I roar, a lion's courage will turn to water;
Out of respect for the King I cannot speak,
But now they are pouring salt on the wound of my heart."

Stanza 19

"I cannot bear these taunts and jibes;
If I spur my steed again, I will not stop for breath till Kufa;
Here my aching soul has come to my lips with grief;
Let them cut me joint by joint with axe, sword and dagger:
Laughing, I will take axe and arrow on my body,
But the wounds of the sword of the tongue I cannot bear."

Stanza 20

Alarmed, the King looked at his son's face;
He said, "Well, let the black-faced ones say what they say;
Why do you tremble with rage, you who are the envy of the moon?
Patience and thanks are our duty, that God may be pleased;
If you grow angry like this,
How will you bear to see your father beneath the dagger?"

Stanza 21

"Do not be angry; I swear it on Shabbir's head;
There, go to the tents; I will deal with them;
Look at me: my brother's arms were cut off,
The sword fell upon my heart, yet I did not utter a word;
If I cursed them now, they would all burn to dust;
But they are the Prophet's community; what can I do but be patient?"

Stanza 22

Hearing this, the one who resembled Mustafa turned pale;
Weeping, he said, "I will do as you bid;
But may God never show me that time, that hour:
If the father is gone, what joy is there in the son's living?
I am ready to die; joy has died in my heart;
After that, even the life of Khizr would be death."

Stanza 23

"Will you give your head first, O King of the age?"
With what longing the King of the faith said, "Yes;
Beyond that, it is as God wills, life of your father;
The old live on, and the young die before their eyes.
See how I weep in mourning for my younger brother;
He whom I raised lies asleep by the river."

Stanza 24

Saying this, the Sultan of sea and land stood up
And began to bind his broken back with a sash;
Ali Akbar fell at his feet with tearful eyes
And said, "Have mercy; your son will die;
If the Imam is martyred before my eyes,
Your slave will have no honour left in the world."

Stanza 25

"Those who were young in years have done great deeds;
O King, is your slave not fit for battle?
I will take revenge on the accursed for my uncle's blood;
I too have worn a sword since childhood, O Imam;
Whatever honour I have in the world I owe to you;
A true son is one who serves his father in his grief."

Stanza 26

"Judge for yourself, O Chief of Arabia:
Should the son sit at home while the father fights, thirsty?
If I am not killed today, tomorrow all will say,
'How white his blood is! What a shame upon the world!
The father gave his head and passed from the world,
And his grown son did not die before him!'"

Stanza 27

"For the Messenger's sake, give me leave for the battlefield;
For Ali's sake, give me permission to fight;
I am dying, O Imam: give me life again;
In the remembrance of God, put me out of your heart.
If you would loosen your belt, sir, my heart would be at ease;
Say to me, 'Go, Ali Akbar, give your life!'"

Stanza 28

The King said, "You do not know my heart;
Darling, where can I find a heart to bear this?
A grown son is a father's staff in his old age;
When you are no longer near, your father will die.
I have not laughed so much that you should make me weep;
Now that your wedding days have come, you go off to die."

Stanza 29

"These are nights of delight, days when wishes come true;
You are not yet fully grown; how young you are!
Akbar, men and jinn will weep over your youth;
How will your mother find peace without you?
What a wind has blown through the garden of the world!
The Sayyid's garden is plundered in the season of spring."

Stanza 30

"If the Lord of Majesty had given you a son,
You would know a father's worth and understand my state;
When he asked you for leave just as you ask me,
Then you would know what it is to give him leave for battle.
How can one know who has never felt it?
Very well, go; I have no complaint against you."

Stanza 31

Bowing, the proud Ali Akbar said,
"May you live safe in the world for a hundred thousand years, sir."
The King said, "Well, death too is not far off;
Having struck my heart with a lance, why this flattery?
Do not silence your father with speeches now;
Go into the tent and win your mother's consent."

Stanza 32

"I am sunk in grief; what is my love worth?
If I had sons like you, I would give them all in this path;
Every moment I hope for good from God;
But if your mother will not let you go, what power have I?
Her heart will shake in her breast, her body will tremble;
At the very word 'leave' she will faint."

Stanza 33

"Everyone knows how much your aunt loves you;
You will find out when you go to the tents:
Zainab will throw her arms round your neck, weeping and sighing;
Your mother will fall at your feet and bar your way.
This trial too is no lighter than chains and fetters;
If both give their consent, then go gladly."

Stanza 34

Weeping, Ali Akbar set off towards the tents;
The Imam's heart shook so that he sat down on the ground;
When that youth of good name came weeping through the entrance,
The thirsty Bano ran towards her son;
Little Sakina came and clung to his skirt;
Zainab took his troubles upon herself and hugged him.

Stanza 35

His mother circled round him and said, "My rose-cheeked one,
You went out at dawn and have only now come back; your mother would die for you;
Again and again I went restlessly to the door;
Now loosen your belt, for my heart is uneasy.
This heat, and no water for so many days!
The face of my sun is flushed red."

Stanza 36

"Your robe is wet with sweat; someone bring a fan;
You have grown dark in the sun; come into the breeze, my darling;
Sit down, and let me brush the dust from your hair with my mantle;
My blood will dry up; do not shed tears.
Whatever grief weighs on the heart, one speaks of it a little;
What is it that makes tears flow from your narcissus eyes?"

Stanza 37

"Has some news about Sughra come from home?
Tell me quickly, for my heart is in my mouth."
Akbar said, "All are well, but
In a moment the house of Khair-un-Nisa will be plundered;
I am refused leave, and so I weep;
My father is going to the field to have his throat cut."

Stanza 38

"To whom can I tell the pain of my heart now, alas?
You stand in my way, and my aunt stands in my way;
There the army of Syria has spread like a storm cloud;
Mother, help me, for the King is girding himself for battle.
Life is very bitter now; I am weary of living;
Your love has undone me."

Stanza 39

"If the Imam, whose foundation is heaven, gives no leave,
It is only out of regard for you and for my aunt;
Now there is no one near him but despair;
There is exhaustion, weakness, hunger and thirst.
How will he fight, when he is weak from head to foot?
He is old, his heart is weak, his limbs are weak."

Stanza 40

"Since Abbas died he weeps every moment;
His face is pale; he is bent like a bow;
There the authors of cruelty have set arrows to their bowstrings;
How am I to give my life for the son of Fatima?
Everyone holds me back; how can I go to the field?
How can I persuade my mother, my aunt, my sisters?"

Stanza 41

"Father's order is: 'Go and bring your mother's consent;
When your aunt agrees, then fight and take your wounds.'
Your wish is that I should not leave your side;
O Fatima, you yourself come to Ali Akbar's aid!
Lest the arrows begin to fly at the King of the two Easts:
The tyrants are closing in on your Husain."

Stanza 42

The mother could not bear to see her son's distress;
Her heart began to tremble at the helplessness of her lord;
Holding her heart with her hands, the mourning woman said,
"Let my whole house be a ransom for Fatima's treasure;
I said nothing before, and I do not stop you now;
Why are you crying? When have I stopped you?"

Stanza 43

"May my mother and father be a ransom for Zahra's son;
Let Abid be his ransom, and thirsty Asghar too;
If I had a thousand lives I would give them, a hundred thousand heads;
My house, myself, his slave-girl, and my son: all are his ransom.
Though I am of the house of Kisra, I am Ali's daughter-in-law;
Whatever you ask I will give, for I am the slave-girl of the Generous One."

Stanza 44

"If the King of sweet nature leaves it to me,
How could I dare refuse you leave?
It is by his grace that I was given a fine young son like you;
My darling, ask your aunt for leave.
We are all slave-girls of the daughter of the Commander of Arabia;
Be it Asghar or you, it is she who decides for all."

Stanza 45

"In word, everyone loves you,
But whose love can be compared with hers?
She never knew day from day or night from night;
Whatever you want, take it from her.
Ask nothing of me, nor of the noble Sayyid;
If you must ask, ask the one who raised you."

Stanza 46

Weeping, Ali Akbar went to his aunt;
He saw that she who knew the truth lay fainted on the ground;
Kubra, distraught, held her head upon her knee;
Even in this state these words of despair were on her lips:
"Now all the strength of body, soul and heart is gone;
Tell me, friends, has Ali Akbar been given leave?"

Stanza 47

"I never expected this of Akbar; how cruel!
He does not even think who lies at death's door;
Alas, this rose has forgotten all my toil;
God be praised, he has grown up; what need has he of me now?
He is lost in longing for battle, thinking only of leave;
It is true: who in this world has ever truly been anyone's?"

Stanza 48

"Once he could not rest a moment without me;
Now others are his masters, and I am nothing to him;
How could he once have dared to step outside the door?
Alas, alas, all my pain and trouble, all my grief and sorrow!
I stayed awake whenever he woke crying at night;
Ask him on whose breast he slept as a child."

Stanza 49

"He never liked anyone else to comb his hair;
He could never sleep unless I lay beside him;
I never went to my mother's grave without him;
My own sons might cry, but I never made him cry;
He knew no one but me;
I was everything to him; he did not even know his mother."

Stanza 50

"Though both my sons were young,
Beside him I gave them no thought;
When those little ones clung to me at night,
I would say, 'Move away; Ali Akbar is my darling';
Those two who were to die would lie at my side,
While he slept with his legs stretched out on my breast."

Stanza 51

"The younger one would often make a fuss at night,
But Aun, how wise he was, God rest his soul!
Day and night he would humour the one who looked like Mustafa;
Whenever this one slept on my breast, that is what Aun did:
'He is the light of our master's eyes, of exalted rank;
Mother, he is a prince, and we are slaves.'"

Stanza 52

"Those two, the envy of the moon, stayed with their father;
In my love for this one I took no notice of them;
When I sat down at dawn to read the Quran,
Even as I recited, my eyes were on his face;
Not for a moment did I forget my love for him;
The Quran lay on its stand, but my life was in the amulet at my neck."

Stanza 53

"For him I gave up both my sons;
I took comfort that a young one like Akbar was left;
Just let him come and ask me for leave to fight!
I will come out of the tent with him, my hair loosened.
How fine! While I still live, he will go off to die;
He has girded on his sword to slaughter me!"

Stanza 54

"In his childhood he loved no one more than me;
What does he care now? That season, that spring, is gone;
His moustache has darkened, the first down has appeared on his cheeks;
He is his own master now; what say have I?
It is clear: from here he will go over there to die;
Even if I die, he will not come this far."

Stanza 55

"Has he gone out, or is he still talking with his mother?
Why did my sister-in-law weep and call my name just now?"
Laying his face on her breast, that tulip-faced youth said,
"Open your eyes; your slave is here;
Your servant was with the King whose throne is the sky;
For what fault, my lady, are you angry with this humble one?"

Stanza 56

"What is my fault, that you show such anger and reproach?
Do I ever say anything against your wish?
I weep now because I have no strength left to be patient;
This is the humble one's complaint, O daughter of Abu Turab:
In every pain and every trouble you are my helper;
You raised me; you are my mistress and my guardian."

Stanza 57

"From my birth I was given your company;
My soul gives thanks for the comfort I found;
Joseph was never given such wealth as I was given;
You held me dear, and so I gained honour.
It is by the grace of your feet that my head rose to the sky;
The sun showed kindness, and the mote began to shine."

Stanza 58

"If you do not wish it, your slave will not even go to battle;
I am a servant; my part is to obey my master;
I dare not argue, nor is it my place to insist;
If I had died, that too would have brought honour to your name.
Why do you weep? Very well, I will not go;
But remember, I will never show my face to anyone again."

Stanza 59

When that dignified youth said this and bowed at her feet,
She was overcome by the love in her heart;
Distraught, she rose with both arms outstretched;
Instead of reproach, these words came from her lips: "I would die for you!"
Her heart so overflowed that the cups of her eyes spilled over;
When she looked at that sun, her tears fell.

Stanza 60

Taking his troubles upon herself, she said, "My darling, do not be upset;
My life is your ransom; do not be upset;
These were all words of love; do not be upset;
Why are you crying? Send for your mount; do not be upset.
Turn back whatever calamity comes upon Husain;
Very well, go: help your father in his trouble."

Stanza 61

In the surge of her love she said this aloud, but
Such pain rose in her heart that her whole being trembled;
Seeing Kubra weeping, the mourning woman said,
"What has happened? I know nothing at all;
Before I could stop him, his stroke had gone home;
What did I say, that my heart has been torn out?"

Stanza 62

"Will this young one go and never come home again?
Alas, alas, all I have earned will come to ruin;
Ever since my two sons were martyred on the field,
I have been senseless; my mind is disordered;
Such is my distress that it knows no bounds;
The words of one who is not herself are no proof."

Stanza 63

"I was not in my senses when he fell at my feet;
I wondered why he was falling at my feet;
Now I see: he was asking for leave;
I have let Akbar slip from my hands; how terrible!
I have no idea at all what my darling said,
What answer I gave, or what Akbar said."

Stanza 64

"Did I say that this rose-bodied one should go to die?
Did I agree that autumn should come to my garden?
I have been beside myself since the King of the age went to the field;
I mean to say one thing, and another comes from my tongue;
In my love for Ali Akbar I hardly know what I do;
Neither my heart nor my tongue is under my control."

Stanza 65

"If I were among the living, would I say that he should go to die,
Be martyred in this thirst, and take wounds while starving?
He is in his eighteenth year: let them at least show me a bride;
I raised him through vows and prayers; let my wishes come true;
I am dying to see at least his wedding garland,
To see his moon-like face beneath the garland."

Stanza 66

"At the very word 'leave' my heart now breaks;
Let the helpless Bano not hear of it;
If she does, the mourning woman will say in her heart,
'My son was not dear to Ali's daughter;
What was she thinking, to give him leave to fight?
Alas, Zainab did not value my son.'"

Stanza 67

"It is true: how can my love compare with hers?
However much I love him, she is still his mother;
He is the light of her eyes, the strength of her heart, the life of her body;
The burning of the soul is such a torment, God protect us!
What are you thinking, friends? Do you understand at all?
A mother is a mother; in this world others are only others."

Stanza 68

"A mother's coolness is no coolness, and no one else's love is like hers;
Be she angry, or speak harshly, in her heart she would die for him;
The nightingale is devoted to the rose, though it complain a thousand times;
Where in this world do lovers' hearts find rest?
Let him stand by his mother; God be praised, he is grown now;
If this is my state, he is her very life."

Stanza 69

When Bano heard all these words from afar,
That good woman came close to the honoured Zainab
And, folding her hands, said, "O sister of the Imam,
I am your slave-girl, and this son is your slave;
Who would dare to say, 'What have you done?'
My lady gave her slave leave, and did rightly."

Stanza 70

"Your slave-girl is a faithful one among Fatima's servants;
May the tongue be cut off that complains of you;
May God keep the Hazrat safe over their heads;
You are mistress in this; who else has any say?
Neither mother nor father has any room to speak;
It is yours to give or to withhold leave."

Stanza 71

"Do not grieve, do not drink your heart's blood;
Send Abid, send Asghar;
It is in your power: give leave or do not;
I would die for you; do whatever is fitting;
Be it joy or grief, I share in the merit;
In every way I obey your command."

Stanza 72

"Since my own house was plundered and I came into this house,
Have I ever brought a word of complaint to my lips?
Though I am the granddaughter of Kisra, a sultan's daughter,
I am your slave-girl and Ali Akbar's nurse;
It is by your grace that I am dear to the King;
Do not think of me as your sister-in-law: I am your humblest slave-girl."

Stanza 73

"You are his mother; this darling is your son;
Who would dare to interfere in this matter?
He is set on battle, and you are in this state;
This good-natured boy would never leave your feet;
You love him, and he would give his life for you;
But what can he do, when today calamity has fallen on his father?"

Stanza 74

"It is ill fortune; whose fault is it?
Let him stay or go: we too have God;
He cares neither for me nor for you;
I obey you, and I would die for him too;
Be it Abid or this one, all are the stars of my eyes;
But now he is neither yours nor mine."

Stanza 75

Hearing this, the heartbroken Zainab began to tremble;
Fatima's voice was heard: "Daughter, your mother would die for you;
Allah, what love for a son, what tenderness!
My rose-cheeked one stands alone among the army of oppression;
If you do not give leave to this darling of the eyes,
Who now will save my helpless Husain?"

Stanza 76

Hearing the voice, the daughter of Murtaza trembled;
Looking at Bano's face, she said to Akbar,
"Go, my darling; well, whatever God wills;
It would be disrespect if I did not give you leave now;
Here my mother has come from Paradise;
The Prophet's daughter has come to plead for you."

Stanza 77

Bowing, the silver-bodied youth left the tent;
Behind him came the whole company of women, bareheaded;
Bano was crying, "My darling son is going!"
His aunt was crying, "The piece of my heart is going!
The Household is being plundered! Justice, in the Imam's name!
The image of the Best of Mankind is leaving the house!"

Stanza 78

The helpless Abid was distraught with grief for his brother;
Again and again he rose and fell to the ground;
His sisters cried, "Brother, we would die for you!"
The maidservants beat their breasts in distress;
As Ali Akbar parted from them, it was like the Day of Judgement;
Even Asghar sobbed in his cradle.

Stanza 79

The tent shook; among the widows there was such an uproar;
Sighs flashed like lightning and tears fell in torrents;
One lay fainted here, another lay over there;
It was a time of calamity, an hour like the Day of Judgement.
Such was the mourning for Husain's young son,
As when a young man's bier leaves the house.

Stanza 80

When that light of God's light came out of the women's quarters,
A servant called out, "His Highness has come out!"
The Hazrat was standing a little way from the entrance of the tent;
Folding his hands respectfully, the wise youth said,
"Let me take leave now, if the renowned King commands."
Weeping, Husain said, "Very well, mount."

Stanza 81

The prince of the world mounted his horse;
It was as if the Creator's Beloved were setting out to fight in God's way;
His sky-roaming steed was a second Buraq,
Fiercer and swifter than a gale, more restless than lightning;
So he sped past them as he charged,
As if Solomon's throne had sailed through the air.

Stanza 82

Here the Hazrat fell to the ground, holding his heart;
There a spy brought this news to the enemy army:
"A handsome young man is coming, the envy of the moon;
The light of Muhammad shines on his face;
All his splendour and majesty are those of the Lion of God;
Everyone says he is no mortal, but a marvel of God's power."

Stanza 83

"Every mote of dust is filled with the fame of this sun;
His hair and body carry the scent of musk and rose;
From head to foot he has the splendour of the Prophet;
He is the image of God's Messenger in his youth;
Around his horse throng jinn and angels;
The wilderness rings with 'Send blessings upon the Prophet!'"

Stanza 84

"His radiant face has lit up the road;
No eye has the strength to rest upon his face;
The mind is amazed to see his black locks:
The Night of Power holds the moon in its embrace;
Beside the light of his face a moonlit night is dim;
The Creator is witness: he is a moon in the darkness."

Stanza 85

They were saying this when the light of God appeared;
It was as if the holy Messenger had passed onto the field;
The men of Syria cried, "The moon has risen!"
It was noon, yet it seemed like dawn;
The lightning of the radiance of Sinai showed its splendour;
The light of his face eclipsed the sun.

Stanza 86

One fainted; another fell and then recovered;
"God bless him!" broke from someone's lips;
The sun's face changed for shame;
When that light shone, even the bloom of the sunshine faded;
Only the river of God's light was in full flood;
All else was low: it was the earth's star that stood at its height.

Stanza 87

The candle of beauty made the desert radiant;
Those who were dead at heart it brought to life in a moment;
It turned the motes of dust into shining suns;
This ground put the heavens to shame.
The earth rose to the level of the Throne;
Beside that path the height of the Milky Way was brought low.

Stanza 88

Allah, the splendour of the grandson of the Remover of difficulties!
From every limb of his, God's glory shone forth;
People were amazed to see the splendour of that moon-faced one:
The awe of Hamza, the might of Ali, the splendour of Mustafa;
Purity in his lineage, nobility in his qualities,
And the sweetness of Hasan's speech in every word.

Stanza 89

Something of the beauty of childhood, something of youth's arrival;
That rose-like body and the lustre of that face;
These beauty spots are each perfect in their place,
From whose darkness the light of the eye's pupil takes its share;
In the gleam of his neck are the ways of the radiance of Sinai;
Every limb of his body was cast in a mould of light.

Stanza 90

Pure in heart, pure in soul, pure in sight, pure in body;
In his nature was the water of Paradise and the dust of Karbala;
The houris peeped at his beauty from their windows;
If Joseph saw him, he would say, 'May our souls be your ransom!'
When the Pen wrote his name upon the Tablet,
It recited the Sura of Light a hundred times and breathed it over him.

Stanza 91

What insolent eye would dare to meet his?
He held such awe that no eye, Persian or Arab, could do it;
On that side were hundreds of thousands, yet every eye flinched;
His anger was terrible, his glance wrathful, his eye furious.
From fear for their lives the heart of every brave man turned to water;
On that field the deer had come to hunt a lion.

Stanza 92

There was a cry: "Look at the likeness of the holy Messenger;
Look at the spring beauty of the garden of youth;
Flowers bloom: look at his blossoming speech;
All this is so, but look at his rosebud mouth;
Lips so delicate, a mouth so formed:
A carnelian gem set in a signet ring!"

Stanza 93

"He has hardly lived yet; it is his eighteenth year;
In what a spring this garden is being trampled!
His stature is that of a cypress in the garden of perfect form;
How should his mother and father not delight in the sight of him?
When this tall figure is no longer before their eyes,
Tell me, will a doomsday not fall upon his mother's heart?"

Stanza 94

"When this moon-like brow is wounded by an arrow,
Bano, grieving at heart, will beat her head on the ground;
When these delicate cheeks are slashed by swords,
The King of the faith will strike his face with both hands;
If a son's breast is pierced, how can a heart find peace?
Were one Job himself, his heart would burst."

Stanza 95

Suddenly Umar ibn Saad spoke to the army of hatred:
"This is the hour of battle, O men of Syria;
This is all that the emperor of high and low has left;
If this lion is killed, the Imam will die;
Plunder the garden of the honoured Fatima Zahra;
Put out the lamp of Husain's house."

Stanza 96

"Whoever wipes out Mustafa's image today
Shall be granted an estate, I promise you;
If he resembles the Beloved of the Almighty, so be it;
The wise course now is to give him no respite.
What does it matter whether he is handsome or good?
There are two hundred thousand brave men on this side, and he is one."

Stanza 97

"Let the world not slip away; if faith suffers, let it suffer;
Cut him to pieces, for he is the son of our enemy;
You are in tears at the sight of his dry lips?
I would not give a drop even if Asghar came crawling;
Let there be no ruler but Yazid;
Let no trace remain of Murtaza's descendants."

Stanza 98

"Now, warriors, do not grieve for his youth;
Strike spear upon spear, heap cruelty upon cruelty;
Raise your lances; hold your swords aloft;
Cut down the tree of the hopes of the Prophet's grandson;
When his son is gone, where will Husain go?
When this one falls from his horse, Husain will die."

Stanza 99

"When this lion's heart is pierced by a spearhead,
How the emperor of sea and land will writhe upon the ground!
His mother will cry from the entrance, 'Alas, alas, my son!'
Zainab will come out of the tents bareheaded;
The Hazrat will come to the body beating his breast,
And we shall go into the holy tent to plunder it."

Stanza 100

"This rose-cheeked one is the life of Haidar's daughter;
He is his sisters' life, his brother's life;
He is his father's soul, the life of his mother's body;
Take his life, for he is the life of the whole house;
He alone is the armour on the arm of young and old;
After him comes the end of small and great."

Stanza 101

Hearing this, the army of hatred made ready for battle;
Not one of them felt for the pain in Husain's heart;
Hearing the uproar, the noble King turned pale;
His legs trembled, and he sat down with a cold sigh;
His mother fell to the ground; his aunt cried out in anguish;
There the cloud of cruelty spread over Ali Akbar.

Stanza 102

The trumpet sounded in the army; the war drum was beaten;
Horsemen pressed forward and drew up their ranks on every side;
Foot soldiers marched to battle, beating their drums;
The Household cried, "Alas, alas, what is that sound?"
The Hazrat cried, "The enemy are surging upon my son;
Widows, pray: Ali Akbar is alone!"

Stanza 103

From that side all the enemies came forward to fight;
From this side the nobly born Akbar advanced alone;
When he advanced, Terror itself bowed and kissed his feet;
It was as if the Commander of Arabia were advancing to fight in God's way.
In terror the cloud of the army of Syria shrank back;
Such is God's power: as the day advanced, the night retreated.

Stanza 104

Holding their shields over their faces, the envious fell headlong;
Though they were many thousands, what did their being amount to?
The whole host bound for Hell trembled;
What show can darkness make before the light of God?
Tenfold dread fell upon the army of Syria;
The sound of the drums of the army of hatred fell silent.

Stanza 105

When several arrows struck the warrior's coat of mail,
The breaker of ranks recited the Fatiha and took up his flame-coloured sword;
A mirror flashed, and the army of Syria stood dumbfounded;
The keen blade showed all the ways of lightning;
Who could bear that flame-raining thunderbolt?
Everyone remembered the flash of Zulfiqar.

Stanza 106

Pausing and pressing on, the brave one went at the enemy ranks
As a lion stalks and springs upon gazelles;
The warrior, who in his hunger and thirst was weary of life,
In a moment piled up mounds of the slain and heaps of heads.
A flood came roaring in and swept past;
No one could tell where the front rank had gone.

Stanza 107

When he advanced, the blood in the enemies' bodies ran low;
Whatever account was outstanding was paid off in corpses;
When every single soldier in the army had his name struck from the roll,
All at once the army's register was overturned;
Their heads were paid into the state treasury;
It was only the first muster, and they were all discharged.

Stanza 108

Not one face showed any sign of composure;
The rank that had been full now looked empty;
Over every head the crescent sword was seen;
The northern army was seen heading south.
There was a cry: "This is no sharp sword; it is death coming!
How can our feet stand firm when the ground slips away?"

Stanza 109

Broken lances lay scattered on the ground;
The lancers hid here and there in fear;
Pools of blood lay everywhere before the eye;
The troops of horse were in disarray all over the field of hatred;
Neither section nor chapter could be found:
The binding of the book of cruelty had come undone.

Stanza 110

When someone stepped up to parry a blow, his shield was cut;
His breastplate was cut, the insolent one's mail was cut;
Every joint of his spear was cut like sugarcane;
His breast was cut, his heart wounded, his waist cut through;
Even his horse lay cut in two upon the field;
And after all that, when one looked at the blade's edge, it was clean.

Stanza 111

That edge and that keenness, and its glitter and gleam!
Now the earth shook, now the heavens trembled;
No flame had such a flash, no lightning such a leap;
At every blow there was turmoil from the sky down to the Fish beneath the earth;
In both worlds no one kept his wits;
The bull that bears the earth crouched down on its knees.

Stanza 112

When it struck straight ahead, the enemy's rank was overturned;
All the life that was left to them was cut off beneath the sword;
When it struck the ground and turned back towards a neck,
Thunder clung to lightning and lightning to thunder;
The jinn fell to the ground, covering their faces;
Gabriel the Trusted drew back, trembling.

Stanza 113

No sign of a standard was left anywhere in the ranks;
Bowstrings lay here, thumb-rings there, bows somewhere else;
Spears here, shafts there, spearheads elsewhere;
Daggers here, lassoes there, lances elsewhere;
The heart of every black-faced one was covered with scars;
The whole wilderness was a garden of shield-bosses.

Stanza 114

It flashed, fell, rose, came here and went there;
It emptied the squadrons and drenched the ranks in blood;
Now it cut at the feet, now it rose above the head;
It was a furious river that rose and then fell.
There was a cry: "What is this, if not the wrath of the Eternal?
Not even the Nile has such an ebb and flow!"

Stanza 115

The heads of the arrogant flew from the rings of their necks;
Hands flew from sleeves, heads from bodies;
In fear every bird flew from its nest;
Finding a way out, the birds of life flew off with a rush.
Ali Akbar was set on slaughtering them all;
The roads were blocked, but the lanes of wounds lay open.

Stanza 116

Allah, the cutting power of that two-tongued, two-edged sword!
Its edge was a calamity, its bevel a doomsday;
From the killing ground to the river stretched a river of blood;
Every moment it craved to lick fresh blood;
It paid no heed to the hardness of joints and sinews;
It took every bone for the soft pith of a reed.

Stanza 117

Wherever it turned, it laid the ranks flat;
Whatever head it found it sent flying from its body;
It took every link of mail for something soft and chewed it up;
It devoured steel mail at a single gesture;
The cutting of breastplates too was left to it;
What of that? A helmet was a mere mouthful.

Stanza 118

There was neither strength to stand nor any way to flee;
It was death for the foot soldier and ruin for the horseman;
Even the invulnerable could not bear a single stroke;
Two were hacked to pieces at once; each stroke was worth four;
If Giv himself came forward, his face would be cut then and there;
It was a crack of lightning, or the slap of a demon.

Stanza 119

Whenever it rose over an enemy's head, it came down to the ground;
In a moment the river of the sword's temper rose in fury;
There was a cry in the ranks: "When did it fall? When did it rise?"
From the fever of the sword all were seized with shivering;
The faint-hearted were bent on fleeing the field;
The spearmen shook so that all their joints came loose.

Stanza 120

The two-edged sword left no one alive;
It was so thirsty that it left no breath in any body;
Not for a moment did it spare a throat without stopping its breath;
Where could they flee, when death would not leave their heels?
Those who fought pressing their horses with their thighs were crushed themselves;
The rings of the stirrups became fetters on their feet.

Stanza 121

Those slain by his first blow were in the depths of Hell;
Many who had been nimble in battle were left headless;
There was no strength in their grip, no soundness in their arms;
How could they draw their bows? Even the bows' arms had gone slack.
Every crooked soul was a target for the arrow of death;
Their shoulders too were cut off: this was a new turn.

Stanza 122

In fear the quarrelsome began to throw down their swords;
They flung their helmets from their heads like jugs;
They all threw the rings of their bows by the bank of the stream;
The enemy threw away their arrows as if they were straws;
Even the oppressors' quivers were stricken by calamity;
In the struggle even the bowstrings were pulled from the bows.

Stanza 123

Those who used to win a battle in a moment
Now had trembling hands and stammering tongues;
The base wretches tangled their lassoes in their bows;
They put their swords in their quivers and their arrows in their scabbards;
They laid down their swords and covered their faces with their hands;
When the sword came, they threw away their shields.

Stanza 124

Those who came forward from the squadron boasting loudly
He struck down first, rolling them in the dust;
When he charged, poising his two-edged sword,
All of them unbuckled their weapons and threw them down;
Neither Persian nor Arab ever fought with such splendour;
Thirsty for two days, Ali Akbar fought furiously.

Stanza 125

In terror many drowned in the river and died;
Whoever came to that landing lost his head;
There was but one road, whether they went this way or that;
Turning this way and that, from every side they went into the midst of Hell;
Fire longed for them, water bore them a grudge;
The wind cast them into the water, and the water into the fire.

Stanza 126

That fighting, that grandeur, that prophetic splendour;
Those mighty roars, those blows like Haidar's;
That blood-dripping sword, that lion-like majesty;
If the rider was the envy of the houris, his steed was a fairy too;
Not even the deer of Khutan were so nimble;
It flew like the Huma bird, though it had no wings.

Stanza 127

Its skin so fine that the blood beneath could be seen;
At the sight of its arching curve the new moon would bow its head;
Such magic in its gait that fairies would go mad;
Even rosebuds are too large; how shall I describe its ears?
A thousand lives be sacrificed for that matchless steed!
Its ears are two arrowheads fitted to one arrow.

Stanza 128

Short, round and clean were its ears, its waist and its rump;
How handsome the breadth of its chest and flanks!
Like quicksilver it was never still for a moment;
It wheeled as smoothly as a machine;
The rider had only to draw breath, and it was miles away;
Even the thread of a breath was a whip to it.

Stanza 129

That leaping and bounding, the speed and nimbleness of the steed!
All its joints and limbs seemed cast in a mould;
Its hooves were a thousand times brighter than the disc of the moon;
Delicate in temper, spirited, black-bodied, head held high;
If the reins so much as stirred in the breeze, it flew off;
Before the rider's eye had turned, it had already wheeled.

Stanza 130

The leap of a deer, the onset of a lion, the gait of a fairy;
The mountain partridge put to shame, the peacock's plumes trampled;
So light was its step that the grass beneath its hooves stayed fresh;
Within a step or two the gazelles forgot their leaping;
Whatever came beneath its hooves was ground to dust;
Its feints were so astonishing that even a phantom was dust beside it.

Stanza 131

Now it became lightning, now a steed again;
When it broke into sweat, it became a cloud raining pearls;
Now it was the pole, now the revolving dome of heaven;
Now it was the point, now the compass.
The people of that throng were amazed at its wheeling;
How it swayed and turned in so small a space!

Stanza 132

When that brave one had killed five hundred young men,
From every rank and every squadron rose the cry, "Mercy!"
The black-hearted, hard-souled Ibn Saad shouted,
"Let those ten thousand archers come out; where are they?
There is no more work for the lance, no need for the sword;
What this young man needs is a shower of arrows."

Stanza 133

Hearing this, they loosed arrows at the thirsty one from all four sides;
Stones began to fall from behind, arrows from the front;
Arrows came in hosts from the enemy's army;
All the arrows were red with the blood of the Prophet's likeness.
What a throng there was on the killing field around that darling!
Moths were falling upon Husain's lamp.

Stanza 134

Taking an arrow in his breast, he spurred his steed;
It was as if lightning had flashed and passed beyond the sky;
The gleaming sword began to bring heads down to the dust;
The wrongdoers threw away their arrows and fled.
Those he had charged turned their faces away,
But as he turned back, he was surrounded by the lancers.

Stanza 135

That one of heavenly rank was caught among the spearheads
As the sun is caught among its rays;
Without water, thorns grew on his dry tongue;
His strength too began to fail from utter weakness;
When faintness came over him, his pure head drooped;
Alas, his hand too ceased fighting.

Stanza 136

Even in that state he cut through lances with his sword,
But a cruel spear struck him in the heart;
Blood began to flow ceaselessly from the wound in his heart;
His feet, slipped from the stirrups, trembled.
When the man wrenched the spear out of his breast,
Two pieces of his heart came out with the spearhead.

Stanza 137

Having driven in the spear, the wretch was running away;
I would give my life for the courage of the renowned King's son!
Though the spear wound ran clean through his radiant breast,
He rode after the wretch and struck him with his gleaming sword;
The man's hands were cut off at the wrists and fell,
But he himself bent over and fell from his horse.

Stanza 138

As he fell, a mace struck his head: alas, the cruelty!
He bent forward as one bows in prostration;
Shees laid a keen-edged sword upon his throat;
A sword fell so that his ribs were cut through;
There was a cry: "Show no mercy to the shattered body;
Gallop your horses over the body of moon-faced Akbar!"

Stanza 139

The Hazrat stood holding a tent rope;
Hearing this uproar, his weakened heart could bear no more;
Suddenly a voice came from the field: "O you of heavenly rank,
Your son is leaving the world; come quickly now;
Evildoers are working cruelty and injustice on my body;
The hateful are trampling me under their horses."

Stanza 140

Hearing this cry for help from his good-natured son,
The Sayyid sighed so deeply that the Throne of the Lord of Majesty shook;
The daughters of the honoured Fatima loosened their hair;
Bano cried out, "Is all well, O son of Ali?
Alas, alas, which mother has been parted from her son?
Tell me, my lord, has my home been laid waste?"

Stanza 141

"Whose son's heart has been wounded by a spear?
Whose body are the wicked trampling?
Who is crying on the field in agony, 'Father, father'?
I am coming out of the tent now; alas, alas, my son!
Do not hide it from me; I know everything;
That is his voice; I recognise it."

Stanza 142

Binding Bano by oaths to stay behind, the renowned King set out;
That thirst, the cruelty of that sun, that distress!
His heart was in turmoil, his soul restless;
Again and again he rose and fell to the ground;
He cried, "Likeness of the Prophet, I am coming;
Do not be afraid, Ali Akbar: I am coming!"

Stanza 143

"Call again, my son, for my sight is failing;
Light of my eyes, the strength of my body is failing;
Do not think that my love is any less;
My heart is wounded; my soul has lost its peace;
Having raised you in my arms, I am left with a scar on my heart;
To whom can I tear out my heart and show it?"

Stanza 144

"Which way shall I come, Ali Akbar? Answer me;
Your mother is crying out at the entrance; answer me;
Akbar, for the sake of the Greatest Creator, answer me;
Son, answer me; my darling, answer me.
I am falling: do a deed of merit with your hands;
Son, hold up your aged father's arm."

Stanza 145

"I cannot see where to go; what shall I do?
Light of my eyes, where shall I find you? What shall I do?
My soul and heart are in torment; whom can I console? What shall I do?
How shall I find my son and bring him back? What shall I do?
He whom I gained after long years of sifting the dust,
That darling I have lost, coming to this wilderness."

Stanza 146

"Enough: now come quickly for Husain, O death;
O wretched body, there is no more reason to live;
O feeble soul, leave this wounded body;
Yes, O breath, pass over my throat like a knife;
Let me not lose the hand of the one who was the hope of my old age;
Let my body too lie beside the body of Ali Akbar."

Stanza 147

Distraught, he came back from the wilderness and went to the river;
Not finding that pearl there either, he went towards the open land;
Now he ran one way, now stopped somewhere;
Wherever he went, he found pool after pool of blood;
He found the blood of a heart dripped upon the ground,
But nowhere did he find his moon-faced son.

Stanza 148

Going up to the ranks, he called out with tears and sighs,
"Which way lies the place where my Ali Akbar was killed?
O tyrants, is it night, or has the day turned black?
In what cloud is my full moon hidden?
Tell me, is there still life in that wretched body?
In what thicket does my lion lie wounded?"

Stanza 149

The King of sea and land was searching for his son's body;
It is a time to beat one's head: the wicked were laughing;
Shimr was saying, "O son of the Lord of mankind,
Whom are you looking for, sir? Your son is dead;
Find the shattered body yourself;
We will not show you Ali Akbar's body."