كذا فليجــل الخطب || أبو الزبير الشامي

Thus, let the calamity be great and the matter grave. Poem by: Abu Tammam al-Ta'i Voice by: Abu al-Zubayr al-Shami Editing: Al-Athar al-Tayyib "Words of the Poem" Thus, let the calamity be great and the matter grave, For there is no excuse for an eye that has not shed its tears. Hopes died after Muhammad, And travel became preoccupied with something other than journeying. And it was nothing but wealth for the one whose wealth was little, And a treasure for the one who spent the night without a treasure. And the one who sought the generosity of his hand did not know, When it was opened, that hardship was created. Is there not, in the path of God, one for whom the paths of the way were closed? By God, the mouth gaped open A youth, whenever the eyes of a tribe overflowed with blood The tales and memories laughed at him A youth who died amidst blows and stabs, a death That stands in place of victory when victory eludes him And he did not die until the point of his sword died From the blows, and the dark spears were raised against him And death would have been easy to escape, but bitter preservation and harsh character brought it back to him And a soul that abhors shame, as if it were Disbelief on the day of terror, or less Disbelief So he planted his foot firmly in the mire of death And said to it, "From beneath your soles is the Resurrection" Tomorrow morning, and praise is the weaving of his cloak And he did not depart except with his shroud the reward He donned the garments of death, red, and no night came to them But they were of green silk As if the sons of Nabhan on the day of his death Were stars of the sky from among whom the full moon had fallen They are consoled for a departed one with whom the highest ranks are consoled And generosity, valor, and poetry weep for him And how can they have patience for him? And he went forth To death, until he and patience were martyred A youth whose spirit was sweet, not from weakness But from pride, that it should be said of him that he was proud A youth whom the horses seized while he was their protector And the fire of war consumed him while he was its ember And the white swords, once sharp in battle, Are now, after him, broken Will Muhammad, after the passing of calamities, ever be a source of fragrance? If the trees of virtue are cut down at their roots, On which branch will the leaves be found? Al-Nadr Though treacherous time has been despised for his loss, I knew him to be one whom time itself loved. Though his days betrayed him in terror, Treachery will never cease to be the nature of time. Though calamity has befallen Tayy, Neither Tamim nor Bakr will be spared it. Thus we ceaselessly lose a departed one, Whose loss is shared by both the Bedouin and the settled. The rain watered his body, and the earth concealed him, Even if there were neither clouds nor rain. And how can I bear the clouds? A deed By watering a grave, and in his tomb the sea He departed, pure of garments, no garden remained On the morning he was laid to rest, except that it wished it were a grave He who was the lifeblood of the earth is now laid to rest And the vicissitudes of time overflowed with his abundant gifts Peace be upon you, a lasting tribute, for I have seen that the noble and free man has no lifespan #Islamic_songs #Islamic_content #Religious_clips