Again, through Muharram, grief has
arrived on the earth, the sky of mourning has arrived,
this crescent is the height of another bow
, "Litna kena maak" is in the head, put
on the rags once again, make a
fire in the heart of this harvest,
sing the drums and trumpets of Aza, sing the
seven climates of thirst,
recite the Sufi Word, Ha and Sin, or the Noon, the doers of the doers, the doers of
the doers, "Hay", the protector of the essence of pride,
"Sin", those heads, the Zapiks, the
one-worshippers, and I
swear by the sterile
chest that he is tired of the pain of leisure,
his heart is closed to anyone other than you,
have you placed any knowledge in my heart?
Did you set up the Throne of Truth in six corners?
Playing with you means love, the
light of truth is revealed to you,
Islam, O oppressed and strange king
, Islam, O "Ayat Aman Yajib",
Islam, O the light of the eyes of
Mustafa, Islam, O "Khamis Al Abba", the slow
caravan is on the way to Karbala,
the plain of blood, the plain of pain, and Nineveh
, the tents are set up in the plain of blood, the
sound of the Quran is heard in the air,
as if that night the sky cried blood, and
the truth cried among the tents.
Or the truth has closed its eyes,
it cannot bear to see, it is tired, the
throne of heaven and the kingdom of truth is in the punishment of
the next day, the head is cut off, the body is separated,
this is the great place of the
slaughterhouse, the birthplace of the Prophet.
