At Karbala the traveller is undone!
An assault upon a Sayyid, loved by all!
In foreign lands can battle e'er be won?
Have mercy on these babes so frail and small.
They die of hunger; thirst has plunged its sword.
They are Your Holy Prophet's family, Lord!
Neither Ali nor the Prophet has been kept
To lead this house so cruelly laid to waste;
For Fatima we mourned, for Hasan wept;
Husain alone remains in kingship placed.
Have mercy! Spare the Refuge of our band!
Our company is lost without his hand.'
Drawing near, the Lord of Heaven spoke:
'Be not thou troubled. All thy prayers are heard.
Our cursed foe all faith and pledges broke,
And now they will learn justice at my word.
This is no time, my sister, for thy tears.
Bring forth the holy relics. Cease thy fears.'
Zainab brought the clothes the Prophet wore
When he went to Heaven on that night.
Husain put on his turban, and once more
He donned the cloak to which he had the right.
Those holy garments fitted perfectly;
The scarf of Fatima, his legacy.
The glorious turban-flaps hung down unfurled;
Like jasmine-perfumed locks they graced his race,
And on his shoulders rested black and curled.
Cathay and far Khotan renounced their place.
Musk and ambergris could not compare
With the scented spikenard twisting in his hair.
The Prophet's fragrance wafted from his train.
No bridegroom knew such perfume from a bride.
Haidar, Fatima, Hasan, Husain.
The scent of the Holy Five on every side
Was squandered on the vale; the swaying flowers!
In Paradise Rizwan rocked in its showers.
The King of Time had donned this fine array;
His sister, blessing him, began to weep:
'Ah Haidar, Hasan! Where are you today?
We roam abroad; where does our mother sleep?
My sweetest Joseph now from us will part;
I die; ah, may the Prophet bless his heart!'
The box of arms was opened by the King;
Zainab, chaste and holy, beat her breast.
The armour wrought in heaven began to sing
The prayers inscribed upon the Leader's chest.
The beauty of its jewels shone out afar
And every link was like a gleaming star.
When Zulfiqar, the mighty sword, appeared,
The King of Heaven kissed its hilt with love.
He weighed it in his hand, and Glory cheered:
'I bow to thy magnificence above.
May victory be thy lot, may triumph flow,
And may thy strike fall squarely on thy foe!'
He fixed the sword that he alone could wield;
The crescent moon grew frantic in the sky;
Up to his shoulder mounted Hamza's shield,
Whose dignity increased when raised on high.
The mark of Prophethood was its proud gain
>From being on the shoulder of Husain.
The Lord of High and Low in arms was dressed;
The Sayyid's standard stood before the hand.
The women, hair dishevelled, were distressed;
His sister clutched the pole with trembling hand.
With swords bound to their waists, on battle bent,
The sons of Zainab came before the tent.
Those rosy-cheeked young boys with valour trod.
Their cloaks tucked in and sleeves rolled up for war.
The might of Ja'far and the Lion of God;
In stature small, hut valiant all the more.
They rubbed their eyes upon the flag and sighed.
In ecstasy to clasp the pole they tried.
They eyed the standard, looked with hopeful eyes
Towards their mother, praising loud the King;
Then taking counsel, sure to win the prize
Quietly said: 'From thee we ask one thing.
Who carries Ali's emblem to the fray?
Who bears our grandsire's standard there today?
For when the King takes counsel, let him know
We have the right, although we dare not ask.
Politeness tells us that we should be slow
In coming forward for this glorious task.
We love and serve the Master of Creation,
But also hope to gain our reputation.
Great heroes in the Prophet's army fought,
But Ja'far gained the greatest honour then.
On Khaibar's field all great distinction sought,
But Ali took the standard of his men.
We may be thirsty, but we fight like lions.
Of Ali and of Ja'far we are scions.'
Zainab answered: 'What is this to you?
Can I advise or sway the Lord of Men?
Please know your place. Accept that which is due.
I shall he angry if you speak again.
Now stand aside, clasp hands and show respect.
Ali Akbar stands alone through your neglect.
Move aside. Go by the standard. There!
Make sure our Heavenly Master does not see.
You come and drive me mad. Now is that fair?
Your behaviour is not good. Please let me be!
You cry, but I can do no more nor less.
As far as I'm concerned that's childishness!
You're babies. Still you crave the highest place.
Well, find a way of putting on some years.
But I admit there's courage in your face.
No one can match you from amongst your peers.
This issue must be weighed up carefully.
No one receives what is not meant to be.
The standard was not made for hands so small.
You are the youngest, though you think you're wise.
Before the Prophet's Grandson you must fall.
This is your duty; here your glory lies.
You wish to fight, but what can be attained?
Today in death alone is honour gained.
What if your forebears won that rich reward?
Do you think it good to steal their reputation?
Real qualities are those shown by the sword.
Let Haidar guide you; aim at Ja'far's station.
You do have Ali's blood, but do not boast.
Be worthy of that title midst the host.
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