بِنَفسي من قد حازَ لونَ الدُجى فَرعا

وَلَم يَكفِهِ حتّى تقمَّصَه درعا

My soul be the ransom of one whose tresses have taken on the color of night,

and even that did not suffice him until he donned that color as armor.

بدا فكأَنَّ البدرَ في جُنح لَيلةٍ

أَو الشَمسَ وافت في ظَلام الدُجى تَسعى

He appeared as though the full moon shone in the heart of night,

or the sun had come, moving through the depths of darkness.

نَمتهُ لنا عشرُ المحرَّم جهرةً

يطارحُ أَتراباً تكنَّفنهُ سَبعا

The tenth of Muharram made him known to us openly,

engaging with peers—seven clustered around him.

تبدّى على رُزء الحُسين مسوَّداً

وَما زالَ يولي في الهَوى كربَ لا منعا

He appeared dressed in black for the calamity of al-Husayn,

yet in love he never ceased dealing out anguish, withholding none.

وَقَد سَلَّ من جَفينه عَضباً مهنَّداً

كأَنَّ له في كُلِّ جارحةٍ وقعا

From his eyelids he had drawn a keen, Indian-forged sword,

as though it struck every limb.

هناك رأَيتُ الموتَ تَندى صفاحُه

وَناعي الأَسى يَنعي وأَهل الهوى صرعا

There I saw Death, the broad faces of its blades dripping wet,

and sorrow’s herald proclaiming the people of love fallen.