What is the secret of his soul?
That we flock to him to mourn and greet
When forty days becomes my goal
And life or death, for him, makes sweet
What is the secret of the shrines?
That my spirit helplessly bends
And my heart burns in sacrifice
But for the pain has sweet amends
What is the secret of this embrace?
That ignites my heart; a gentle light
Distance shall not rob me of his grace
From home, I walk forth day and night
What is the secret of the spoken songs?
That echoes his story, through a melody
With trembling hearts that have no tongues
Beating along to the tragic eulogy
What is the secret of the saddened heart?
Defined by the two mourning eyes
A blazing fire if it were a painter’s art
Or a darkened cloud dropped by the skies
What is the secret of the crying pilgrims?
Straining forward on their knees
Like plotted flowers, the gentle hymns
Echoing beneath the Karbalaei breeze
What is the secret of this universal link?
Where millions of hearts are annually pledged
From his love they all strive to drink
So when they return they all fully fledged
What is the secret of the enshrined sun?
A painted beauty that you cannot compare
Stars glistened and shined but failed to outdo
The beauty of Karbala, beyond all things rare
By Taher Adel
01 March 2008