1. Alas! No eye has found a friend at Wasit’s noon,
Whose tears would flow for one now turned to mud,

2. When the sleepers rose on that fateful evening
And tore their collars in grief and sorrow.

3. If the abandoned of virtue be touched, perchance
Caravans may stop by where he once stood.

4. For you are not far from one who made a pledge -
Nay! All under the soil are far indeed.