O, say, can you see?
By the crescent’s waning light
The old man (hunch-backed)
The young woman (veiled)
The little boy (unafraid)
Walking, driving, flying away
From the bright streets of Paris
Narrow alleys of Tabriz
Busy corridors of Karachi
Restless highways of Houston
And together
Walking in unison
To the golden dome of Karbala
So gallantly they walk
Attired in black
Black as their grief
Through a perilous trail
A trail of endless tears
As the bombs burst into a crimson glare
And the bullets fusillade in the air
They strike back
With a million swords of “Ya Hussein!”
So proudly they walk
Not for their slain sons
For their sons were buried
Hussein was not.
They beat their chests
Not for their oppressed sisters
For they were veiled
Zainab was not.
They shed tears of blood
Not for the orphaned children
For they were spared the sight
Of the butchered heads of their fathers
Ruqayya was not.
So bravely they walk
On the burning sand
Under the sweltering sun
Mindless of the tempest of hate
Heedless of the typhoon of ignorance
They walk
To the welcoming home of their beloved
And they chant
“Ya Hussein!”
O, say, can you see?
The love-spangled banner forever wave
Through the desert dales of Karbala
Home of the free
Land of the brave
-- AK
-- AK
