Yeh Roz-e-Ashoor Hai

Wirde Zabaan Hai Ek Pyase Ki Kahani Mustarif Dajla Ka Pani Sawa Na E Naize Pe Suraj Aa Gaya Har Su Dhuwa Hai Ro Rahe Hai Pyase Bacche Alqama Bhi Door

The story of a thirsty one is on every tongue, The water of the Tigris is restless, The sun has risen upon the spear, There is smoke in every direction, The thirsty children are weeping, and the Alqama (Euphrates) is far away.

Har Taraf Bikhre Hain Lashe Sar Kahi Bazu Kahi Asmaan Se Khoon Barsa Khoon Ugalti Hain Zameen Ambiyan Hain Mahewe Matam Karbala Hai Sogwaar Ek Pyase Ke Gale Par Shimr(LA) Ke Khanjar Ki Dhaar Ret Ke Teele Pe Zainab Hai Magar Majboor Hai

Bodies are scattered everywhere, heads here, arms there, Blood rained from the sky, the earth is spewing blood, The Prophets are absorbed in mourning, Karbala is in grief, On the throat of a thirsty one is the edge of Shimr's (la) dagger, On the sand dune stands Zainab, yet she is helpless.

Kya Yehi Hota Hai Logon Ek Musafir Se Suno 7Tvi Se Band Pani Aath Phehron Ki Hai Bhook Iski Gurbat Par To Roye Zulm Bhi Aur Sabr Bhi Myyaten Bhi Khud Uthai Aur Banai Qabr Bhi Jism Hai Teeron Se Challi Dil Ghamon Se Choor Hai

Is this what happens? Listen, people, from a traveler, Water cut off since the 7th, eight watches of hunger, Even cruelty and patience wept at his state of exile, He lifted the corpses himself and dug the graves himself, His body is riddled with arrows, his heart is broken with grief.

Zindagi Ke Malikon Par Zindagi Hai Nauhakhawn Bain Karte Hain Kinare Alqama Mehwe Fugah Ro Rahe Hai Zinda Lashen Maiyyaton Par Sar Nahi Kya Kare Kisko Bulae Woh Ke Jinke Ghar Nahi Maut Khud Karti Kari Hai Matam Zindaagi Na Soor Hai

Life itself is mourning for the Masters of Life, They wail on the banks of the Alqama, absorbed in lamentation, The living corpses are weeping, there are no heads on the bodies, What can they do, whom can they call, those who have no home left? Death itself is performing the mourning, life is no longer a trumpet (of joy).

Jis Taraf Utthe Nighaen Bus Yehi Aae Nazar Be Badan Lashen Sina Par Teer Talwar O Tabar Dast Ki Jalti Zameen Par Baithen Hai Ahle Haram (Asws) Ek Sakina Ek Baqir (Asws) Chand Bacche Mehwe Gham Aur Musafir Kheh Raha Hai Sab Mujhe Manzoor Hai

Wherever the eyes turn, this is all that is seen, Bodiless corpses, arrows, swords, and axes on the chests, The Ahl-e-Haram (asws) are sitting on the burning earth of the desert, One Sakina, one Baqir (asws), a few children absorbed in grief, And the traveler (Hussain) is saying, 'Everything is acceptable to me.'

Baanta The Dhoop Suraj Aj Kyu Gahen Aa Gaya Ek Libase Soog Sare Dast Ko Phehna Gaya Usne Dekha Ek Beta Jis Ka Bigda Bakht Hai Warise Shabbir (Asws) Hai Woh Aur Imam E Waqt (Asws) Hai Aj Woh Beemar Bhi Hai Bekaso Ranjoor Hai

The sun was distributing heat, why has an eclipse come today? A garment of mourning has been draped over the entire desert, He saw a son whose fortune has turned, He is the heir of Shabbir (asws) and the Imam of the time (asws), Today he is also ill, helpless, and sorrowful.

Kis Qadar Pur Noor Lashen Reh Gaye Jo Bekafan Ek Ham Shaqle Payember (Asws) Ek Qasim (Asws) Gulbadan Hai Kahi Aun O Mohammed (Asws) Aur Kahin Hai Bezabaan (Asws) So Gaya Dariya Pe Jake Bekason Ka Paasban In Ke Gham Me Asmaan Par Chand Bhi Be Noor Hai

How radiant are the bodies that remained un-shrouded, One like the Prophet (asws), one Qasim (asws) with a body like a flower, Somewhere is Aun and Mohammed (asws), and somewhere is the voiceless one (Ali Asghar), The guardian of the helpless went to the river and fell asleep (was martyred), In grief for them, even the moon in the sky is without light.

Nauhakhwaan Irfan Haider Madare Shabbir (Asws) Se Kya Masaeb Aj Likkhe Tune Mazhar Abadi Be Ridai Bikhre Lashe Aur Ye Jalte Khayaam Aa Gaye Kaqaz Pe Jaise Dasht Ke Manzar Tamam Lafz Hai Ya Jalte Kahime Har Shatar Ashoor Hai

Nauhakhwan Irfan Haider, from the mother of Shabbir (asws), What tragedies have you written today, Mazhar Abadi? The unveiling, the scattered bodies, and these burning tents, It is as if all the scenes of the desert have come onto the paper, Are these words, or burning tents? Every line is Ashura.