Symphony (A Long Poem) Poem by Muhammad Shanazar

(On the terrorist attack in the procession of 10th of Moharrram in Karachi)

Ya Hussain!
Son of Ali,
Ya Sayeedi!
When will this perpetual Karbala come to an end?
The taste of blood is still strong,
In the trembling maddening sand beside the dunes,
Severed heads entangle in the worn out branches,
Wind in state of travail spins and takes refuge in bushes,
In our times,
Son of Ziad and son of Shmir don’t have a hideout,
Now they wear suicide jackets
These traders of heaven and heavenly beauties,
Have pulled Karbala back in the last few years,
Although this suffering land has seen,
Blood emitting ebb and flow of terror.

Ya Hussain,
Son of Ali,
Ya sayeedi!

In this journey to fifteenth century,
These Kufi and Kharaji,
Enemies of progenies of Abraham
Have become blood thirsty of every man
In whose heart beats in good balance of here and hereafter
Every man with desire to walk in tandem,
With the world is in the aim of these blood thirsty murderers,
Whoever wants to live his life his way and in freedom

Ya Hussain!
Son of Ali,
Ya Sayeedi!

Strange Koofa killers, barbarians, mad heartless murderers,
Always die before they kill innocent infants,
Young and old men and women,
With pieces of iron wrapped around them
They take a leap to hell themselves,
Turn roads, streets, squares, places of worship and bazars
Into abattoirs

Ya Hussain!
Son of Ali,
Ya Sayeedi!
Although we haven’t seen burning camps,
With our own eyes,
But whatever is etched in the mirror of history,
That eve of Karbala,
With evening of the wretched,
Full with wails and cries of women and infants,
Refuses to flow with tears,
And instead resides in the crevices of hearts,
And bodies of mourners,
For whom everyday is Karbala
Each evening of heart rending grief
Every house, alley, bazar burns
Like the camps on fire,
Where innocent children burn,
And in that fire smolder the innocent,
But this time on the 10th of Moharram
Suddenly killer iron pieces rained on
The gathering of mourners,
That was the time of waning sun
The evening of extreme terror,
Burning bazars was like the burning camps,
Then they went on a looting spree,
Hell fell upon hell!
Karbala is still on fire!

Ya Hussain!
Son of Ali,
Ya Sayeedi!
Spread over centuries,
When will Yazeediat come to an end,
And decimate at the hands of Hussaniat.

Written by Ayub Khawar
Translated by Muhammad Shanazar