Would that I had been there in Karbala,
My life would have been given for Hussain,
How often does this thought upon me gnaw—
My blood would have been spilled upon those plains.
With confidence, I claim I would have been
Amongst those noble few who lived to die,
Unflinching, facing death, their band was seen—
While I have often shuddered facing life.
For my Imam, what arrows have I dodged,
Allowing them to strike his heart instead?
How often have I marked his rivals’ calls,
Drawing the map which leads them to his tent?

 
Be wary, tongue, you are not crushed by what you proudly claim:
For weighty is the status of the comrades of Hussain.