1. Let me weep for my garment as it bids farewell,
For I will persist in weeping as it departs.

2. O son of Hussein, do you not see my coat of mail,
Tattered and worn from the pain it has endured.

3. In it are rips and tears, that if breezed by winds
Would have shredded and scattered without pause.

4. It tells of how my mantle was torn apart,
Teaching the pain of rending and ripping anew.

5. May God grant him no solace, for he has torn
Each of my garments until they were in tatters.

6. So praise God, O mountains, for were you to face him
You would bow down in dread and split into pieces.