Kya Tum Mere Hussain Ho

Kaise Pade Hain Jism Ke Tukde Juda Juda Kya Tum Mere Hussain Ho

How the pieces of this body lie scattered apart — Are you my Hussain?

Haye Haye Mere Ghareeb Ka Kya Haal Kar Diya Ghoron Se Lasha Dasht Mein Pamal Kar Diya Pehchanu Kis Tarha Se Badan Se Hai Sar Juda

Alas, what have they done to my forlorn one — they trampled the body in the desert beneath their horses. How am I to know you when the head is severed from the body?

Pehchan Lon Gi Main Tumhein Aawaz Mujh Ko Do Dam Todte Jo Dekha Hai Kadiyal Jawan Ko Aankhon Mein Ab Behan Ki Ujala Nahi Raha

I will know you — only give me your voice. I saw a strong young man breathing his last; no light is left now in your sister's eyes.

Pehchanna Tumhare Liye Bhi Kathin Howa Dekha Hai Pehli Bar Jo Zainab Ko Be Rida Aati Hai Sharm Jald Bata Do Mujhe Zara

Even for you it has become hard to know me, for you see Zainab unveiled for the very first time. Shame overcomes me — quickly, tell me who you are.

Karta Raha Hai Zibha Ki Koshish Kahan Kahan Khanjar Ke Hain Kati Hoyi Gardan Pe Bhi Nishaan Kata Hai Kis Tarha Se Sitamgaar Ne Gala

How long the tyrant struggled to cut you through — even on the severed neck the dagger's marks remain. In what cruel way did the oppressor sever your throat?

Kya Le Gaye Hain Loot Ke Sab Kuch Ye Ashqiya Tan Par Bacha Hai Maa Ka Ye Kurta Sila Howa Nikle The Jab Khayam Se Ye Haal To Na Tha

These wretches have plundered and carried off everything; only your mother's stitched shirt remains upon your body. When you left the tents you were not in this state.

Aahista Se Jawab Do Hai Sath Oss Ki Maa Kya Ab Tumhare Pas Hai Masoom Be Zaban Nana Sa Lasha Kis Ka Ye Seene Pe Hai Rakha

Answer me softly — his mother is here beside me. Is the speechless innocent now with you? Whose tiny body is this laid upon your chest?

Dekho Bandhi Hain Hathon Mein Mere Bhi Rasiyan Ab Or Lo Behan Ki Na Ghurbat Ka Emtehan Kuchh To Jawab Do Mujhe Sughra Ka Wasta

Look — ropes are bound upon my hands as well. Do not test your sister's helplessness any further. Give me some answer, for the sake of Sughra.

Wo Bhi Tumhari Tarha Se Zakhmi Na Ho Kahin Dil Ko Mere Ye Lagta Hai Mujood Hain Yahin Aati Hai Maa Ke Rone Ki Nazdeek Se Sada

May she not be wounded somewhere as you are — my heart tells me she is present here. From close by comes the sound of a mother weeping.

Zainab Pukari Mir Takallum Basad Malal Kya Marte Waqt Bhi Mere Parde Ka Tha Khayal Hai Muthiyon Mein Kis Liye Ye Khak e Karbala

Zainab cried out, says Mir Takallum, in deepest grief: Even at the moment of death, did you think of my veil? Why is the dust of Karbala clenched within your fists?