Household of Gold

Poem 8: The Merits of Ali

Oh my Lord,
Tell me what my tongue is for if not to praise the one who lifted Khaybar's door,
My tongue is worthless without his mention,
Yet this tongue is unworthy to even utter the letters of his presence,
Every time I call his name, I feel salvation from him I have gained,
The three letters of his name parts hell from the heavens,
I can feel his praise being sung when I smell his rose's sweet heavenly fragrance.

What is this pen for if not to write the poetry of Ali,
I swear to God,
They say to me his being is not praiseworthy,
I tell them then show me another who was born in God's sanctuary,
Show me another who when he was born,
The Kaaba broke to let his mother enter,
After all, show me another who is Muhaammd's brother,
Who is such a brave warrior that Marhab he'd strike with such force and power,
One blow from Zulfiqar and he'd reach hellfire,
For even thinking he could conquer the master of all masters.

Circling  the Kaaba is Haider's mother,
She feels that she is about to give birth and does not come closer,
When the voice of God speaks you are different from the mother ISA,
For only God's lion shall be born inside the Kaaba.

And so the wall crumbles to let her enter,
Look at this brave mother,
Where other men in fear would cower,
She walks with grace and belief in Allah.

As she enters,
Idols shatter,
The Earth trembles in awe of his valour,
The Kaaba rotates and hearts are filled with love,
As Jibrael says Nair e Haider.

And on the night of Migration,
While was travelling the best of creation,
In his bed would sleep Ameer ul Momineen,
Awaiting patiently for Muhammad's killers,
Yet they did not dare enter,
For they knew if Mustafa is sleeping,
Guarding his home is Haider,
If we go closer,
With one strike of his blade we will be slaughtered.

There was one who could become her partner,
Only one who would be the guardian of Kauther,
Only one who would be gifted Heaven's pure flower,
Other men had wives,
He was the husband of the mistress of heaven's dwellers,
Such is the status of my Moula Haider.

And like his children,
There are no others,
Hassan and Hussain,
The masters of heaven's young soldiers,
Raised by Sher e Khuda!

And tell me who is the flag bearer,
In the battle of Khaybar,
When Muhammad gave the call and Karar would answer,
Doldol's hooves rushing through the grains of sand faster,
And he won the battle with honour.

His praises my tongue could sing forever,
Yet these lips would never do justice to my master,
A teacher,
A philosopher,
The Quran's compiler,
For the world,
A messiah.

And so I pray to make My existence like that of Maytham,
The humble date seller and Ali's noble servant,
Who gave his life for Ali's mention,
And through this beautiful existence attained martyrdom.

Or like that of Sulayman E Farsi,
A true lover of Ali,
Who reached such stations of piety,
His love and devotion to Ali is his legacy.

I pray to the Almighty to bless me again and again with the opportunity to gaze upon your golden shrine's beauty,
And to visit the Kaaba and kiss the wall that blossomed for you,
To grant me the blessing of in your honour reciting poetry,
Accept these small words as a humble gift from me oh my Moula Ali,
Please recite Nair E Haideri!!!