(Original Urdu marsiya by [tbd]; translation by Syeda Raza)

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To their home the weary travelers return

Bearing doleful gifts they have come

With teary eyes and bleeding hearts

Crying out, toward Medina they turned

 

“We return without Zahra’s family today

Oh Medina deny us, do not acknowledge our stay”

 

“Oh Medina, we return without your Lord

Oh Medina Shabeer was beheaded with a sword

Oh Medina in Koofa bare-headed we roamed

Oh Medina our arms are bruised with ropes”

 

“Zahra’s beloved is dead and yet we live

Oh Medina, for Akber and Qasim we grieve”

 

The terrain of Medina at this moment quaked

With a heavy heart Abid summoned Basheer

To reflect bad tidings, cloaked him in black

And handed a black emblem to him and said

 

“Face them I cannot, yet the news they must learn

Go forth and announce that I have returned”

 

Basheer entered Medina, the news he proclaimed

In Bani Hashim’s locality he saw a sight strange

A young girl, beset with illness stood alone

When he inquired “My name is Soghra!” she exclaimed

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“What’s the reason for your tears?” Basheer asked

She replied “In Husayn’s absence this is my task”

 

“I wait here every day in case Akber comes home

Or if a messenger delivers a message from him

May God unite me with my family soon

Close to death, I’m anxious to see them return”

 

“A message from my Father, pray somebody bring

He is my messiah, and I need Him”

 

Basheer realized she was the daughter of Husayn

He was quite, couldn’t burden her pain

But she noticed his black cloak and asked

“What dark message do you bring Oh messenger, say?”

 

He replied “I’ve been sent by the one who ails

I carry a message for the Prophet’s grave”

 

Soghra cried “What do you mean, pray tell?

Who ails Oh messenger, by whom have you been sent?

What message do you carry, what does it say?

To the Prophet’s tomb you go, what is your intent?”

 

In grief he threw his cloak to the sand

And cried “Oh Soghra it’s about your Husayn”

 

“My Father?” Soghra cried, and fell to the ground

As the news spread, every household mourned

Women left their homes, crying out for Husayn

Reaching the Prophet’s tomb, Basheer announced

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“Weary and looted the travelers return

Rise Oh Prophet, your granddaughters come home”

 

Darkness loomed, the Prophet’s tomb quivered

Wails of “Yaa Husayn” everywhere could be heard

And Soghra lay on the sand, weeping, distraught

Surrounded by women, who sought to console?

 

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