the wound of my longing

by Aqeela Naqvi

Shrine of Imam Ali (a)

Shrine of Imam Ali (a) – Najaf, Iraq. July 9, 2015.

“which day shall i see your entrance and stand sorrowful at your door
and return to you, oh Haydar
and return to you

your absence on me has become long
and i am yearning to cherish your soil
and return to you, oh Haydar
and return to you

i am the one who loved you
do not think i have forgotten you

[…]

oh he whom leaving has clearly disturbed my life
i want to talk to you honestly, so let me
i’m afraid the disturbing events will make me forget
oh father of Hassan, don’t you know
i will sacrifice my life just for the opportunity
to see your shrine, oh Haydar
to see your shrine

from your separation, my patience has been demolished
in my mind still lives this thought
to see your shrine, oh Haydar
to see your shrine

by my soul i am inseparable from you
do not think i have forgotten you

[…]

i sleep on the pillow of my doubts
and wake drowned by my tears and moaning
i am impatient, looking forward to seeing you

[…]

distance from you has grayed my hair
oh he whom leaving him is immensely difficult
the wound of my longing for you is deep, and still bleeding
the nights of injustice stole the smile from my lips
and my years finished in sorrow yearning for your company
but the hope to see you has not been extinguished
after all this time i feel my soul still remains fragile

from my eyes i cry blood
with the fragility of my soul,
i draw your shadow, oh Haydar
i draw your shadow

the ink is the blood from my wounds
and with the canvas of my weeping
i draw your shadow, oh Haydar
i draw your shadow

in my soul i found you,
don’t think i have forgotten you

[…]

after you my life is like an atom lost in a mine
without you the parts of my soul will not be joined
oh Father of Hassanain
separation from you is the wound, you are the cure
which day will i reach you
and clear the clouds of sadness?
near your shrine i will cleanse myself from the dust of grief
which day will i be near your grave?

[…]

between the tears and the sorrow
i feel the heat of the sword’s hit
your absence is difficult to cope with oh Haydar
your absence is difficult to cope with

from my eyes, the tears flow endlessly
in between my ribs burns an ember
your absence is difficult to cope with oh Haydar
your absence is difficult to cope with”

—’Ya Youm Ashoof Atabek,’ Bassim Karbalai

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