There would be no single person who would not love to listen the Karbala poetry, Muharam poems and Muharam songs. All such items describe the whole incident in just few lines. It may have even witnessed that most of the poetry and poems even brings the tears in the eyes of many lovers of Hazrat Hussain. The way the enemies killed the Hazrat Hussain was unforgettable story in the minds of every person. As the Muharram arrives all the memories flashback and fresh the whole happening. This is quite obvious that no one can ever fail to remember the mourning of Hazrat Hussain.
The whole month of Muharram brings along the sad and grieved feelings along with him. All the men and women never even waste a single minute for showing their love and grief over the Hazrat Hussain. In this month Muslims and even Shia undertake the fast because this has been recommended by the Holy Prophet. The men section beat themselves with the chains and sticks that it even filled with bodies with blood. The women are supposed to keep them free from all sorts of embellishments and beauty products and just kept the as simple and plain.
Muharam poems and songs interest are much seen in the small children and kids. Those families who don’t favor their child to beat themselves in the crowd then they fulfill the right of the Muharam by making them participate in the Karbala poetry, Karbala SMS, Muharram poems and Muharram songs. Some of the children narrate the whole situation in such an innocent manner that it brings the tear in the eyes of millions of people. In this article we are giving few a Karbala poetry, Muharram poem and Muharram song.
Not just the Shia children but the Muslim kids as well take their keen interest in taking part in the competitions that are held in the months of Muharram. All the Muslims must also commence the arrangements for the mourning of Hazrat Hussain because we must never forget that Hazrat Hussain was the grandson of Hazrat Muhammad and in this way he has a strong link with the Muslims as well. Just read the below mentioned poems, poetry and song and we are sure that you will insist for reciting these lines in front of the others and this will show your real love and faith towards the religion.
It was peak of the mischief and virtues in chains;
Just laws were sacked with rules insane;
As the tyrants on the rise, and mass confused,
offered lust with lies, and faith abused.
Thus the signs indicated, and time dictated.
Some souls elevated as Husayn(A.S.) navigated;
a seed of the Prophet (P) and the sight of his Parents (A.S.);
that time in deluge, he was ark so apparent.
In the Name of God, for the sake of Islam;
for the freedom of life and soul of Islam;
gave greatest sacrifice, but not his hands,
with the members of his kin and many of his friends.
Hur, Muslim and the friends those hearts so pure;
they offered their lives as shield and cure;
thus tyrants came forth from the curtain way old;
then peace was bought and lives were sold.
And daring in the manners were the two young brothers;
in the boldness of their moves were the teachings of a mother;
Shone Aun and Muhammad with the valor known as Haider (A.S.);
Those children were slain not the feeling of the mother.
With a message from his father was Qasim bin Hassan (A.S.);
a radiant jewel of Islam was this glowing young son;
but Qasim into pieces with a bride day old;
on the sand in heat it was savage and cold.
Then the pride of the Hashims rode back from the river;
and the tyrants made sure that he did not deliver;
they cut off his arms, but spirit was set;
till an arrow hit the bag, only eyes got wet.
Fell Abbas (A.S.) from the horse, with no hands for support,
then Husayn (A.S.) rushed to shore for a brother’s end resort;
those children who waited with the patience were told;
and thirst in the camp was three days old.
Soon Akbar cam down with spear in his chest;
which a father had to pull so severe was the test;
He was image of the Prophet(P), and the life of Husayn(A.S.),
He was vision of a mother and the eyes of Husayn (A.S.)
Now the Leader was alone as he called for the help,
then a baby fell down; a response from the crib!
This thirsty, pure, infant was a son of Imam,
Who, acknowledged his father and the call of Imam.
Thus Husayn (A.S.) brought him for some water in the field,
and showed them baby’s dried lips and appealed;
but the six months old got an arrow so thick,
that turned him over and tore his neck.
Ali Asghar went to sleep, with his father and no fear;
with the cradle on the fire, and their head on spear;
and the mother’s empty hand, with the tear dried eyes,
who looked for the baby to sing lullabies.
And a sister by the camp saw the horror of this trip;
as a knife tore the neck, where the Prophet (P) put his lips;
earth in grief, roared heavens and mourned,
Sand turned red when Husayn (A.S.) was torn.
And a child full of tears with her tiny bleeding ears,
bruises on her face and her thirst so severe;
She ran for her father who laid beheaded,
and cried for the uncle for help she needed;
Syeda Zainab (A.S.) looked for her in the sadness of that night;
did inquire every soul in the land of the plight;
but Sakina was sleeping on the chest of a body;
with the love of the father, from the fragrance of his body.
Then the camp pushed down, while flames went up;
little children rushed out, as their dresses lit up;
it was night full of cries and the innocent quests;
shattered were the dreams and broken were the nests.
All defenses laid to rest, after trials and the tests;
left to face, one Imam, even history would detest,
who fainted with the illness faced torture and torment;
a Master of the pious and devotees’ ornament.
Lashes on his back heavy chains on Imam;
but ladies were the prisoners, was the wound of Imam;
no chador for them but their rope tied arms;
and grief soared high from Kufa to Shaam.
But, the daughter of Ali (A.S.) challenged, miseries with the messages;
with the families in bazaars, and deadly courts of savages;
With the depth of the patience and the Zenith of Bravery;
Islam was rescued for ever from the slavery.
To the martyrs my sigh flies
Embossomed in the deep where Karbala lies,
Here pilgrims’ pride gains a daily cheer
To boast one splendid commemoration once a year,
Blest spirits, you, whose fame just born to bloom
Shall spread and flourish from the tomb.
They please, are pleased, they give blood
Till martyrdom, they grow to what they stood.
O unhappy land! You tempt the swords
Blood boils here to steam glory in hoards.
With kind concern our pitying eyes overflow
Trace the tale of martyrs in our everlasting woe.
The beauteous past reappeared at length
The Prophet’s Qur’an and Ali’s strength,
Ah! How bright glitters the blood’s ray
Shed was the Prophet’s blood, made eternal the day.
Unawed by power, unappalled by fear
With honest faith they held Muhammad’s labour dear.
A time there was, Husain was on Muhammad’s shoulders
In Karbala he lifts his martyred son on his shoulders.
Who can feel how Husain as a father felt the plight
Ali Akbar resembled the Prophet to every sight,
When he came and stood by Ali Akbar’s side
To lift the body of his young son so brutally died.
This day beyond its term extends
Life is ended when Karbala ends.
Each melting sigh and every tender tear
We draw and shed ends in the enemies’ fear.
With close attention behind the scenes we find
A glowing courage that warms Zainab’s mind,
Husain alone to every person could give
The Qur’an’s Truth and the Prophet Sunnah live.
Here Ali Asghar claims a pitying sigh
Scarce born to martyrdom and in infancy to die,
All wept as the echoing sigh from inside the camp heard
The Truth with its speech pierced each heart and head.
Hard was the lot which Zainab endured
Brought the facts to light and sealed the enemy obscured.
Here sleep the brave ones – all sunk to rest
The Prophet’s House they and all so blest.
Here all is glory and pilgrims in crowds sway
Love in tears flows and animates the clay.
Here each martyr lies in a diviner mood
The sands are flattened by blood their food.
Seraphic voices are heard to sound
Why not? Shrine upon shrine all around,
And Zahra from the veiling cloud
Breathes her sighs crying aloud,
Here in this air, in this soil in rapture I’m blind
Husain rules here, he is the Lord, to him all is designed.