Every Day is Ashura – Every Land is Kerbala
Dagarna av glädje håller på att ta slut. Dagarna av sorg är på väg mot oss. Dagarna då vi åminns Hussain, Abbas, Zeinab och Sukayna. Dagarna då vi minns Akbar och då vi minns Kerbala. Dagarna då vi minns räddaren, offret, hjälten och Imamen.
Salam Allah 3ala Ahlul Bayt. Jag vet att inte många delar mitt intresse, men jag bryr mig inte. Dagligen får jag höra att jag skriver för mycket om religion eller för mycket om politk och återigen andra menar jag borde skriva mera skvaller om mitt privatliv..Suck säger jag bara..
Närmaste tiden kommer jag att skriva och publicera mera om Hussain, om Kerbala och om det offer som Hussains död innebar. Det är berättelser om hjältar, om blod, offer, om korruption och om kampen mellan gott mot ont.
Akh Allah..Ya Hussain, esmek ma yennesi..
You left this world at ransom
To pay that hefty price
And who would have thought the Prophet’s grandson
Would have pay it with his life?
Hussain your name sends shivers that even my hardened could feel
And the tears that follow are of a sorrow so real
They bore witness to The Most High
But how quickly words are born on our hasty tongues
And how quickly they die
They bore witness to your grandfather Muhammad (pbuh)
Lest they had forgotten his name
Lest they had forgotten who sent him, his message and his claim
Truth is, they forgot him even before his time came
On Thursday, paper and pen
As he lay in pain
The Prophet who lived, suffered and died for our guidance
But they had the nerve to call him insane!
Now that’s insane
If that isn’t then what is?
And can you explain why they butchered his grandson
Why they slaughtered Hussain?
They bore witness to your mother, unparalleled amongst her kind
And they knew his father Ali, the Commander of the Faithful
What’s clear is your killers weren’t in command of the nafs
And no they weren’t faithful
Truth is the religion died
And if it wasn’t for your death it would have been
Lost beneath our numbered breaths
And so your memory lives on
A revolution and a new dawn
Echoing across the endless valleys of time until today
Where we say we worship truth but we lie in falsehood
Surrounded in a world of true evil and false good
Caught in a web of social depravities
Decay and corruption by which they promise ease
A world of fatal morality, of spiritual mortality
Where the hearts of men are lost before they are found
And God’s purpose for man on earth is drowned
By so many shouts of evil!
Shouts so frail yet spiritually lethal
I look at the graveyard of man
Peering into the rectangle that awaits me
Struggling against the winds that sedate me
The numbing intoxication borne from the cup of this world
Blinding man from God and The Path is blurred
But you taught me better than that
Hussain you taught me better, in fact
You taught me to die than to live dying
You taught me to live in truth and to die trying
Hussain, who thought they knew of sacrifice until they heard of
Your beloveds ruthlessly murdered before you?
Who knew of patience until they heard of what you had to endure?
And I know it tore you
To watch those you love and whom God loves pass before you
How many tears can an eye shed?
And how many drops has your heart’s sorrow bled?
He brutally butchered your family
And rendered the arid sands of Karbala red
But still you looked the tyrant in the eye and said
I see nothing in it but beauty
To die in the way of truth, it is our duty
Fighting the armies of oppression and cruelty
For with surety our blood is not spilt in vain!
Nor our suffering lost nor our pain
But man knows no bounds and is quick to forget
They took his life and they didn’t regret
His death gave us life
We’re forever grateful for that, lest we forget
For even over a thousand years later
And your blood still soaks this scorching sand
But your memory lives beyond this land
Where a struggle took place and a sacrifice so grand!
Neither time nor space can quell our sorrow
Where Yazid dies
And the memory of Hussain lives past tomorrow.