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HIJSAIN OF KERBALA

Men weep for you today in nzany lands And on their breasts in bitter anguish beat, And in sad, mournful tunes, the tales repeat Of how you lost your life upon the sands. You nobly spurned the tyrant's base demands And Chose death to prevent your soul's defeat,- Became a martyr with unflinching feet For these well may one weep who understands.
This sorrow at your death, despite the years Is still as fresh, which Time has failed to quell. In every heart this day new pain appears And of your sufferings men each other tell. They see a vision through slow-falling tears Of that lone battle where athirst you fell.