Those by the water washed their hands of life, And hands of headless riders lost the reins. A hand was struck; a heart was plunged in strife. No hands were left to grab their horses reins. They fain would hide their faces in their hands; But, shamed, their feet took off across the sands.
Ah, how they feared the Lion of Creation! The stream of the Euphrates turned to bile. Their cruel hearts were racked with consternation; They could not run, nor could they stay awhile. 'Run!', came the cry, 'before it is too late.' The river of God's wrath was in full spate.
Although the watery fish were armour-clad, They hid themselves in fear, mouths open wide. In whirlpools spun the shields; the waves were mad; . The crocodiles sought corners dark to hide. The river would escape the sword's white heat. But bubbles formed like blisters on its feet.
Divine destruction was the sword's swift blow. 'God help us!', came the cry. 'What can we do?' Through helmets, then through breastplates it would go, Then on through saddles, slicing steeds in two. And when the sword into the ground was thrust, The Earth cried: 'Save me, Ali, Lord of Dust!'
The bowmen, pressing hard, died in the fray. Their arms hung loose; their bow strings still were taut. The horn was cut, their arrows flew away; One step onto the field and they were nought. The bird of vain imagining took flight; The notches on their arrows gaped in fright.
All those who were in archery renowned Could find no place of refuge but the grave. And those whose target-shot was always sound Groped blindly for the life they could not save. Those archers of perdition, sore misled, Mistook the arrow's notches for its head.
The lines fell upon lines, and flanks on flanks; Riders fell on riders, steed on steed. For five that fled, ten fell among the ranks, And heralds were despatched with awesome speed. The army broke and tyranny was dashed. So rare to see a foe so cruelly lashed.
The Lion of Karbala was now enraged. To Karbala for refuge wolves had fled. What war in Karbala the sword had waged! At Karbala fell many a severed head. The villages became abodes of ghosts. Mounds of corpses towered above the hosts.
The Warrior King struck panic in his foe, And turmoil broke beneath the ancient sky. The bowstrings looked for refuge in the how; For help the bow to arrow-heads made cry. The ruthless sword drove on, and everywhere The enemy sought a respite from its glare.
>From twanging bowstrings arrows sped like rain; Hurtling from the Syrian cloud they poured. The piebald horses, chestnut steeds in pain Whinnied as the sweltering hot winds roared. The hatred of the desert was. on fire; Husain alone withstood its clamorous ire.
Water-carriers came and called their wares: 'The market-place is brisk!' 'Come cool your hearts!- The wicked, mindful only of their cares, Rushed to the water-boys like poisoned darts. A blazing fire consumed the world of pain. All drank their fill except the Lord, Husain.
Such thirst assailed him 'neath those burning skies; He masked his face and cried in desperation. The sun's sharp glare assaulted his poor eyes, But still he leapt and fought with exultation. Rare beads of sweat poured down his holy face;
Pure pearls cascaded on the battle-place. But those who slaked their thirst just slunk away. The sword of Ali led the fight alone. It flashed upon the scalp in full array. Stopped by neither shields nor iron nor stone. The blade of the Creator knew no thirst; In front of it the helmets' blisters burst.
The enemies were confused, and could not tell An arrow from a bow, such was their plight. The archers seeking refuge fled to Hell; Their quivers shuddered as they took to flight. No sooner had they tried to grip their bow, Their heads were off; their bodies were laid low.
The horses jostled riders when they saw The sword flash by; in fear they jumped and leapt. Not one in thousands stood this battle raw; Among the ranks there was no order kept. >From every side the shout of 'Scatter!' 'Flee!' Swords turned their faces from the misery.
>From the stamping of the horses sand flew up; The firmament filled like an hour-glass. The dark-blue sky became a dusty cup, And blackness spread o'er valley, hill and pass. The glow that lights the world was lost from sight; The afternoon at once had turned to night.
The prowess of the Lord against his foes! With sunlight on his swarthy face he strode. His dry cracked lips were petals of the rose; Like Ali borne by Zuljanah he reode. Came clamour from the battle, fierce and harsh: 'Run off!. An angry lion stalks the marsh.'
'Husain! Make haste to save us!', came the cry. 'Husain contests the banks; the swamp he takes. Husain fights with the wrath of God on High. The world is his; in him God's spirit wakes! Husain saved Noah from the dreadful flood. May we be saved by Ali Akbar's blood!'
The name of Ali Akbar reached his ears; His heart was pierced; he pulled his horse's rein. And as he stopped, his eyes were filled with tears; He addressed the spot where his dead son had lain: 'Life of my soul! They call you from afar. The battle ends; I lay down Zulfiqar.'
Ibn Said cried out and slapped his knee: 'Ah shame! His victory becomes defeat! Behold! the hero! Such brave men as he Should never lead themselves to base retreat.' Then one of Ibn Sa'ds strong men cried out: 'This prize is mine! I'll put Husain to rout!'
He was gigantic, ugly, fat and dark, And larazen-bodied with a waist of iron; Of Death his quivered arrows bore the mark; His shield had smashed the teeth of many a lion. His heart was evil and his soul corrupt; At his every step a mountain would erupt.
Another giant like him in form and height, With brushy, beetling brows and dark-blue eyes. Stood by his side, depraved and full of spite. In battle he slew foes of wond'rous size. One boasted of his club and one his sword. They girded up their loins to slay the Lord.
To paint this awesome fight I need resolve; To gain my enemies' praise the power of speech; A sword-sharp tongue its hardness to dissolve; A pen of steel its forcefulness to teach. To draw the battle-ranks amassed for war The inkpot needs the flash of Zulfiqar.
The anguished soldiers stood, their faces white; The bravest of them trembled, for they feared Husain might bring his sword into the fight. Could Marhab stand his ground if Ali dared? Could Antar keep his head in such a fray? Who has defeat or victory today?
A voice from Heaven cried out: 'In Allah's name! Oh Lord! Oh Darling of the Arab race!' The King was mounted, mindful of his fame; His sword rose up and showed its gleaming face. The shameless giant pressed onwards like a flood, But Zulfiqar was thirsty for his blood.
In battle stalwart soldiers staked their lives, And evil frowned upon the earth beneath; Their thunderous shields, their lightning-flashing knives Were drawn against the horse that gnashed its teeth. It beat its hooves; those cowards sought retreat. The earth-supporting cow shook on its feet.
The selfish giant came brandishing his spear Against Husain, lout little served his might. At once the sword was raised into the air; The tyrant's arrows from its strike took flight. They might have hit a rock; their heads were dashed:
The string that fired them broke; the bow was smashed. The tyrant raised his club in fresh attack; The Scion of the Dusty One saw red. He beat his hands in wrath; the giant fell back, As lightning struck upon his angry head. Defeat for evil! Victory for the just! His head now severed fell upon the dust.
Confused and scared he tried to run away, And groping took his sword in his left hand. But Death's cold hand will always find its prey. And Zulfiqar sliced through him on the sand. A miracle the way the sharp sword flew! The rider and his horse were cut in two.
The second giant approached; the King called out: 'Hast thou not seen the power of Zulfiqar?' The wretch came on, regardless, with a shout. But Death already called him from afar. Summoned by the voice that knows no laws, Another victim for the lion's jaws.
The King of Faith towards his rival turned, As if a hungry lion had joined the fray. With nonchalance the enemy's sword was spurned. The sky was split; the heavens spun away. The giant sank in the saddle without a sound; His mighty horse was pressed into the ground.
The peaks of Qaf sped from the fairies' sight; The Jinn were lost; the lions strayed from home; The denizens of the deep dashed to the light; The hawk and partridge fled where pythons roam. The mountains huddled, hiding, from the roar, And eagles fell from eeries where they soar.
A voice came from the sky: 'All hail, Shabbir!' This sword was made for him. Shabbir, all hail! All hail! To him was battles honour dear. Nursed at his mother's breast, how can he fail? God gave him mastery o'er all creation. For he alone could fight to save his nation.
But now enough! No more, Husain! No more! 'Tis time to rest. The horse pants from the heat. The time for prayer draws nigh. The battle's roar Is over now for thee. No more! Retreat! No one can fight thus, thirsty in the throng. Attend to thy dear kin, and soothe their wrong.'
Sheathing his sword, the King; cried: 'I obey!'!' The Day of Judgement came upon the world. The enemy stood like animals at bay. Their arrows fixed, their standard's flag unfurled. Husain stood helpless. See and you will know Your helpless Lord alone before his foe!
Ten thousand arrows dashed upon his chest; A hundred at one time sought out their prey. The spears transfixed his side and pierced his breast; Ten stuck for every four he pulled away. The Shadow of the Lord was filled with spines, Like needles in the backs of porcupines.
>From all directions arrows poured like rain; Assassins rushed with spears and daggers bared. Such pain befell Husain. Such pain! Such pain! The one who on the Prophet's lap was reared. No one to pluck the arrows from his chest. No one to lift him to his place of rest.
Midst thousands, one afflicted stood, alas! The noble son of Fatima, alas! Shabbir was struck by tyrants' spears, alas! And arrows pierced his holy skin, alas. That ragged, angry army, honour's bane, Poured out its bristling quivers on Husain.
Those who had fled from battle now returned; One took a stone and aimed it at his head. The blow struck home; his fevered forehead burned;; Then to his throat a three-pronged arrow sped. He touched his forehead, clasped his throat and sighed. The arrow flew out from the other side.
This arrow had three heads, so it is told; It pierced the Lord, not stopping in its track. His breathing stopped; his eyes wide open rolled; He tried to pull the shaft out from his back. His final breath emerged?an angry flood?; The palm placed on his wound was filled with blood.
A'var Salami, an enemy of the King, A foe of true Islam, now played his part. He split his forehead with a mighty swing; Sinan, the son of Uns, speared through his heart. Another plunged his stomach with a hook. The grave of the Prophet's Refuge sighed and shook.
Husain falls from his mount?calamity! His holy foot falls from the horse's girth. His side is gaping open?misery! He swoons; his turban drops upon the earth. The Quran has fallen headlong from its stand.
The Ka'aba's walls have crumbled into sand. Far from the wastes came Fatima's pure voice: 'Muhammad! See our family despoiled! Now who will save our friendship and rejoice? Against what tyranny our Leader toiled! Full nineteen-hundred wounds were on him thrust; Ah Zainab! Come! Husain writhes in the dust.'
Now Zainab moved the curtain of the tent And came with unveiled face and heaving breast. Her limbs were trembling and her back was bent. She cried: 'Ah Karbala, where is thy guest? From- thirst I suffer; guide me with thine eyes, And bring me to his corpse, to where it lies.
The whole world is in darkness at my feet. For Allah's sake, stay with me at my side. Where lies our Sayyid writhing in the heat? Ah mother, lead me to the place he died!' Her sighs consumed her blazing heart with flame. A voice was heard: 'Who moans and calls my name?'
Who called: 'Oh sister! Do not come this way! The time for thy departure is at hand. For Allah's sake, go home! Lost is our day. May Ali save the ship of this poor band. Let not Husain be left in this cruel waste. To drape his corpse let Fatima make haste.'
Her head uncovered, Ali's daughter walked To the place where Ali's darling son was slain. She ran, though by the evil enemy balked, And reached the spot, clutching her breast in pain. Ignoring every danger, she drew near, And saw her brother's head stuck on a spear.
Then Zainab, overcome with sorrow, cried: 'Ah Sayyid! Let me bless thy blood-soaked face. My brother's throat was slit. See how he died! Dids't thou forget thy sister's healing grace? Our house is robbed; the promise was not kept.' His moving lips took God's name as she wept.
'Thy sister greets thee, brother. Answer me! Hear the cry of Haidar's daughter's strife. With thy dry tongue give answer! Hear my plea! Should Zainab cling to this accursed life? For Death alone can end this separation. No one is left to give me consolation.
My brother, can I bring thee back once more? What can I do? Where can I tell my woes? To whom can I recount the pain I bore? Our city is now ruled by evil foes. The world has been destroyed beyond belief. How can I live within this house of grief?
Why did this wretched waif not die before? Come tell me how the dagger ripped thy breast?' A voice cried: 'Do not ask the pains I bore! For all that came to pass was for the best. Now from all tribulations I am free, But ah! the wound to be apart from thee!
For even now the foe is bent on plunder. Give nought but thanks to God for thy dear life. When tyrants come to set our home asunder, Take care of poor Sakina in her strife. Protect my daughter in thy warm embrace; Let no one look in anger on her face.'
Enough, Anis! Your very limbs are quaking. This monument you built with glory rings. Such verses written while your hands were shaking Will fire the world and please the hearts of kings. Their harvest is this gathering of mourning The spring-like pleasure of the autumn's dawning.
