ভূমিকা

Shiavault - a Vault of Shia Islamic Books Sorrow and Sufferings (15) The Savior Of Islam Sweet melodies blew the heavenly horn A joyous tiding; Husayn was born The sun rejoiced; the moon was gay Each in its orbit, each did away. The waters rippled; the wind was all play Never were they, so happy and gay It was Muhammad's light and Ali's ray The Savior of Islam, had come to stay.

A gift to Muhammad, from his Lord A son to Ali, the sun of God A fruit of love, to the Lady of Light A brother to Hassan, to cause him delight. Born was he, out of God's grace A beacon light, to the human race A soul of souls, whom God made pure With heavenly love, the world to cure. The Prophet rejoiced; his eyes shed tears For here was one, to him most dear For here was one, for Islam's sake His life and all, would one day stake.

For truth and justice, he would fight In cause of God, without respite For he was one, decreed by God To lay his life, for the love of Lord. The heavens were glad, for such a one The Lord should choose, Ali's son For best was he; the world had seen Whose vision one craves, even in dream. "Fed with love, by the Lady of Light" he got the best, of what was right and from his father, the 'Godly Knight' he drew his strength and his might.

But Muhammad did give, beyond measure All that he had, as his treasure For he was his treasure, beyond doubt As he often publicly proclaimed aloud. "Love them my Lord, I do implore, Who love Husayn and him adore He is of me and I of him" Such a bond, the world had not seen! He sucked his tongue, in playful jest His breast he made, a place of rest The reins he made, his curls of hair His back he made, a stately mare.

Such was the love, the Prophet bore For he was his grandson, and more An anchor sheet, to all who care To live and be, 'just and fair.' The life he lived; the path he led He earned by sweat; the poor he fed Not a pie had he, that he kept But the poor he gave, ere he slept. A king of kings, in simple attire The crowns of world, he never aspired To the uncared widow, and the needy orphan He gave his all, and all so often.

Many a day, he tightened his loins To buy his own bread, he had no coins So noble of heart so pure a soul To please his Lord, was his goal. He lived for Lord and His delight He toiled by day and prayed by night The simplest of life, he liked to live The best of things, he liked to give.