Blessed Tree Media brings to you Madhloom Husayn Jaanam | مظلوم حسين جانم : A nauha based on the matam beats of the Arabian-African Coasts and Persia. Tune in and share widely a beautiful recitation of world renowned reciter Mulla Nazar al Qatari @Nazar Al Qatari | نزار القطري #husayn #karbala With English Subtitles ----------------------------------------------------------- Translation: I swear by God who spread out the earth and created the heavens And by the revelation and signs Gabriel brought I call out with nobility until the Day of Resurrection That I shall die with dignity and not humiliation, never! If the bloodthirsty blade should sever my head If the sword drawn for battle should cut out my liver If they send a three-pronged arrow instead of water to my fresh flower If through my brother\'s pain the enemy should break my back Murdered by tears, taken prisoner by hardships Will you write my sorrows in Karbala with mere pen and ink? Never! Grief can only be written in flowing tears If my enemy surrounds me and shoots me with arrows If my head, shoulders, and body must bear the strikes of swords If a stone should strike my brow and cover my luminous face in blood If instead of water, my cruel enemy gives fire If I die a hundred times from my son’s burning fever They wronged me, killed me, and forgot who I am Until I lived in a world of grief and suffering All the sorrows of the world have gathered here By God, who willed me to suffer a hundred cuts Two hundred spears and swords did not hurt my body I will never take the hand of my oppressors or accept humiliation Even if they bring all the inhabitants of the heavens and the earth to fight me (Husayn, my life, how you were wronged…) I did not break my pledge to worship God alone I swear, I never worshipped anyone but God I swear, I am the son of the Lion of God and the son of Fatima An Arab, an Alid, from the line of the Quraysh, of the tree The son of a veteran of Uhud and Badr, a son of Fatima, of the moon I gave my everything, my seventy-two companions gave their lives It is I with crimson face It is I with blood gushing from my throat It is I with thirst like a dagger It is I with the grief of the youth It is I in the dust of the desert It is I beneath the horses\' hooves I am beloved to God who guides But in Karbala I am alone, stripped, and covered in dust Strange that I should taste death while I am thirsty Who is there to protect me, my beard dyed with blood? I am here with severed veins and shredded heart I am here with my little child, my thirsty infant I am here with my imprisoned daughter I am here with the Ever-Living, the Eternal One Does anyone worship the Lord above as I do? For I am the niche of the one for whom the blade came while he was in prayer When my child was slain and by family taken captive, when my neck was cut When I was slain thirsty beside the river’s waters I am here with many wounds, I am here with the verses of the Qur’an I am here with the parched tongues, I am here with the tips of the arrows Let all come and see our stand, our nobility, and our dignity (Husayn, my life, how you were wronged…) Here all can see what became of me Would the Prophet, the best of humankind Be pleased by these claws tearing into Husayn? By God, by the Messenger, by Ali son of Abi Talib, and by Zahra the Pure And my brother Hasan al-Mujtaba, the paragon of virtue My brother, how do you feel seeing the horses trample my chest? And my seventy-two companions, my Habib, my Zuhayr, and my Tirmah my John and Wahb, all of pure heart By the dignity, the nobility, the sternness of Abbas By Uthman and by Ja’far, by the two martyrs of Aqil By the pure hearts of Abdallah and Qasim By Ali Akbar and his pain, by Ali Asghar and his blood The full moon beats its chest with both hands from grief Shedding tears that flow like silver, crying out in lament Broken-hearted, O my support, O my aspiration, O my beloved, O Husayn! (Husayn, my life, how you were wronged…) By the jasmine of Medina, by Ruqayya, by Sakina By Zaynab’s stricken heart and her two martyred sons By the dry lips of my little children By the weary body of my beloved son Sajjad I shall never flee from these oppressors Nor shall I give allegiance or make peace with tyrants My head is upon the spearhead in the way of God, speaking with the Beloved I will bear the slings and arrows, for I swear I see nothing but God (Husayn, my life, how you were wronged…) By the Arab Prophet, the Messenger of Medina And by his brother, the Lion of God called Ali By Zahra the pure, by the mother of her father And by his grandsons, his lion cubs, they are the scions of purity By al-Sajjad, by al-Baqir, and by al-Sadiq, truly! And by Musa, and Ali, and Taqi, and Naqi And by the one imprisoned in Samarra and by God’s Authority who will rise up with the truth Who will strike out with the sword to rule for eternity And by Muhammad and Muhammad and by Ali and Ali (Husayn, my life, how you were wronged…) Show Less >>