Here you come, Muharram… majalis have begun
We will never forget… your day of Ashura
* * *
In the midst of the crescent moon I feel pain
And what a blessing to feel your love O’ Hussain
How blessed am I to welcome Muharram again
Crown me a king and your servant I’d still remain
But a slave, but a servant… born to weep and to lament
We will never forget… your day of Ashura
* * *
The days that the lover of his love must confess
Oh how the scent of burning tents the nose has missed
If my life were to extend to a thousand years
I’d spend every year serving in your majalis
Majaalis, we attend… and we cry and lament
We will never forget… your day of Ashura
* * *
The speaker is now awaited by the pulpit
And the reciter await words from the poet
The Hussainiya calls: O’ mourners come and sit
Zainab is waiting for her night to be moonlit
Know your tears quench her thirst… and let Asghar be nursed
We will never forget… your day of Ashura
* * *
In the majalis I weep and ask a question:
Who am I that for me your back was left broken?
How great is your love that we were not forgotten
Even as you stood there on the plains all alone
Your great heart deserves the world… yet your blood was left cold
We will never forget… your day of Ashura
* * *
(Dearborn – 29/07/22)