Pamaal Lasha Qasim

Hoke Taqseem Main Tukdon Main Bikharta Hi Raha Jism Ko Kar Dia Pamaal Layeeno Ne Chacha

Divided into pieces, I kept scattering apart; The wretched ones have trampled my body, O Uncle.

War Par War Hue Zakhm Hi Bas Zakh Mile Kya Kahun Kitne Mere Tan Pe Chacha Teer Lage Bani E Zulm Meri Jaa'n Ke Talabgar Mile Surat E Aab Mere Jism Se Hain Khoon Bahey Mai Tarapta Hi Raha Hoti Rahi Jor O Jafa Jism Ko Kar Dia Pamal Layeeno Ne Chacha

Blow upon blow, I received nothing but wounds. How can I describe, O Uncle, how many arrows struck my body? The architects of oppression sought my life. Like water, blood flows from my body. I kept writhing in pain while the cruelty and injustice continued; The wretched ones have trampled my body, O Uncle.

Hoke Zakhmi Mai Jo Ghode Se Zamee Par Aaya Koi Lakhon Mai Madad Gar Na Apna Paya Naiza O Teer O Tabar Ahle Jafa Ka Saya Maine Maidan Mai Har Samt Chacha Jaa Paya Koi Sunta Na Tha Maqtal Mai Meri Aaho Buka

When I fell wounded from my horse to the ground, Among the millions, I found no helper of my own. Spears, arrows, and axes—the shadow of the cruel ones was everywhere. I saw the oppressors in every direction on the battlefield, O Uncle. No one was there to hear my cries and lamentations in the slaughterhouse.

Apne Dada Ki Tatha Mai Bhe Rajas Parhta Tha Jung Maidan Mai Baba Ki Tarha Karta Tha Surat E Sher Mai Maqsad Ki Taraf Badhta Tha War Ammu Ki Tarha Fauj Pe Mai Karta Tha Shiddat E Pyas Se Mai Aur Chacha Lad Na Saka

Like my grandfather, I too was reciting the Rajaz (battle poetry). I was fighting in the battlefield just like my father. Like a lion, I was advancing towards my goal. I was attacking the army just like my uncle (Hassan). But due to the intensity of thirst, I could not fight any longer, O Uncle.

Alvida Kehta Hua Khasta E Tan Jata Hai Umme Farwa Ka Pisar Tashnadahan Jata Hai Kar Ke Veeran Ye Ek Maa Ka Chaman Jata Hai Chor Kar Kunbey Ko Ab Jaan E Hasan Jata Hai Raas Aai Na Nabi Zadon Ko Ye Karbo Bala

Saying farewell, this broken-bodied one is departing. Umme Farwa's son, parched with thirst, is departing. Leaving a mother's garden desolate, he is departing. Leaving the family behind, the soul of Hassan is departing. This Karbala did not prove kind to the children of the Prophet.

Dil Pe Ye Gham Bhe Chacha Jaan Uthana Hoga Ek Rida Lasha E Qaism Pe Udhana Hoga Mera Chehra Jo Meri Maa Ko Dikhana Hoga Iss Tan E Chaak Ko Chadar Se Chupana Hoga Khoo Bhari Dekh Ke Mayyat Ko Kare Gi Wo Buka

This grief too must be borne on your heart, O Uncle. You will have to drape a sheet over Qasim's corpse. When you have to show my face to my mother, You will have to hide this torn body with a shroud. Seeing the blood-soaked body, she will surely lament.

Sunke Marne Ki Khabar Maa Toh Tadap Jayegi Dil Ko Kis Tarha Gham.o Dard Mai Behlaye Gi Yaad Aayeg Gi Jo Bete Ki Toh Ghabraye Gi Seh Na Payegi Judai Meri Marjayegi Haaye Iss Gham Mai Khuda Maa Ko Kare Sabr Aata

Hearing the news of my death, my mother will writhe in agony. How will she console her heart in such grief and pain? When she remembers her son, she will be overcome with distress. She will not be able to bear my separation; she will die. Alas, in this grief, may God grant my mother patience.

Sunke Qasim Ki Sada Rote Rahe Sheh Azhar Aisa Purdard Tha Maidan Ka Atif Manzar Hayee Afsos Hai Qaism Ka Hua Khatm Safar Mar Gya Laal Jawan Jaan E Hasan Lakht E Jigar Bain Karte The Ye Ro Ro Ke Bohot Shah E Huda

Hearing Qasim's voice, the King (Hussain) kept weeping, Azhar. Such was the painful scene of the battlefield, Atif. Alas, the journey of Qasim has ended. The young son, the soul of Hassan, the piece of his heart, has died. The King of Guidance was lamenting, weeping bitterly.