Where is our father… we’re looking for him
His name is Muslim… his name is Muslim… Muslim
* * *
When the tents were on fire everything scattered
They were two roses that within the wind fluttered
The elder one to his younger brother uttered
From the death of our father our hearts shattered
Our father has gone… you are an orphan
He will not return… he will not return… Muslim
* * *
Running from Karbala, they walked for days and nights
The feet are scolded and with the thirst each tongue fights
Tears in their eyes until they saw Kufa’s lights
But Ibn Ziyad had these two fixed in his sights
He told his soldiers… throw them in prison
They’re Muslim’s children… they’re Muslim’s children… Muslim
* * *
In prison they would pray and would bow and prostrate
The guard asked who are these two that pray till so late
They replied that our father is Muslim the great
He cried, I’ve imprisoned Muslim’s sons, what’s my fate?
And to Mohammed… what will my tongue say?
How can I be a… how can I be a… Muslim
* * *
He let them go but found them, Harma the evil
He said I’ll murder them and get reward I shall
His wife cried let these kids go, they’re young and frail
He told his servant kill them or kill them I will
His servant said no… his son cried to him
They’re sons of Muslim… they’re sons of Muslim… Muslim
* * *
Harma took the elder one and cut off his head
His blood was washed by the tears his brother shed
Then he cut off his brother’s head, like him he bled
And to Ibn Ziyad’s palace their heads were led
Ibn Ziyad saw… that he killed these two
He asked him are you… he asked him are you… Muslim
* * *
(London – 28/10/14)