هو الطف فاجعل فضة الدمع عسجدا — Aloshari

This is al-Taff; so turn the silver of tears into gold.

And forge passion's steel into an Indian sword for yourself.

And drink sorrow unmixed at its spring, and repeat

A fresh tale for the dwellers of al-Tufuf.

The heart is but a morsel of flesh; give its pieces freely,

And let it ransom the Grandson—my soul be his ransom.

Would you accept life after a master has died,

Whose grandfather, the Chosen One, became humankind's master?

Would you accept kohl upon your eyelid after his calamity,

While the eyelid of piety and faith has grown sore?

Take lamentation over that calamity as a firm resolve

Toward salvation, and make sorrow's saddle your seat.

The angels wept over his calamity, and the horizon bears witness:

Have you not seen it turn rose-red from its tears?

So, O star by whose light existence shone,

So after him we find neither radiance nor a star.

And O basil sprig, whose fragrance sweetened existence,

Which tyrants' hands deliberately ravaged;

And O pearl of knowledge that shone, only to face

The scoundrels' outright obstruction.

My soul be ransom for that sight of him lying in the soil,

And oh, how often he lay in Ahmad's lap!

And for a mouth whose saliva the Chosen One's mouth sucked,

Yet this Yazid came at it with a rod.

And for a head—al-Zahra's hand had been its pillow,

Yet it came to be unjustly pillowed upon the dust.

Even if they ruined your worldly life, O son of Muhammad,

The wrongdoers will know their abode tomorrow.

Base men who practiced injustice by nature; for

Each man gets from his life only what he has grown used to.

And by your sacred right, this calamity does you no harm,

For humankind and all creatures were not created in vain.

So the All-Merciful clothed you in the robe of martyrdom,

And clothed them in disgrace that lasts for all eternity.

You donned the cloak of glory, and this is a sign

That yours is long-lasting, immortal glory.

And the Lord of the heights purified you in His Book,

And made all Muslims acknowledge it and bear witness.

Do you deny this, O Yazid? This is not

The first vile deed to come from you, O traitor.

O sons of the Chosen One, your servant's love has grown pure,

And become nourishment and a wellspring for hearts.

A stranger far from his native lands; his heart

Caught fire from sorrow's flames and blazed.

A dark calamity from time befell him;

He bore its troubles and wore them about his neck.

It deliberately unsheathed its sword in his face,

And stripped him of his right, leaving him bare.

At your gate he laid down his staff; your sanctuary

Is safety when time grows tyrannical and rebels.

He came to you crying for rescue from sins that kept coming

Upon his back each day, in pairs and singly.

He came to you to beg for bounty, because you

Are generous; your bounty precedes rain and dew.

He came to you to shield himself from time's harm,

And you guard the neighbor if a night visitor appears.

He came to you, came to you, O offspring of Haydar,

Broken, calling to you, raising his cry aloud:

Husayn, deliver me from an age whose drink

Is scalding water and pus; whenever it clears, it turns rusty.

May our God bless your grandfather, the Chosen One,

And grant him peace as long as a camel-driver chants toward his land,

And extend this blessing to his family, companions, and every follower

Of theirs, and every lover of them all who affirms God's oneness.