We Have Mingled Our Blood With Streaming Tears
We have mingled our blood with streaming tears,
Therefore is there nothing of us now left for the stroke of the foe.
Oh ! The weapons of the man are tears, which he sheds
In the time when the fire of war is kindled by the glittering swords.
Hear, sons of Islam !
Yet are there appointed to you Battles, in which heads must come under hoofs.
But how can it be that your eye sleeps, the lashes full (sc. of sleep)
Amidst sorrows, which would awaken every sleeper ?
And your brothers in Syria—their place of rest is
On the back of young horses, or in the maw of old vultures.
Them the Roman loads, burdens with dishonour, and ye
Draw after you the train of luxury, as if ye lived in peace.
And how much of blood is already poured out, and of the beautiful
How many a one guards the blushes of her beauty with her fingers spread over them.
During the time that stroke and thrust are but once exchanged,
Are both her sons grown gray.
And he that draws back in fear, from the whirlpool of this strife
To deliver his life, shall one day gnash his teeth for repentance.
This strife puts into the hands of the idolaters sharp-edged swords,
Which will one day wound neck and head of the faithful.
Soon will the prophet, the buried in Taijeba, cry out,
With loud voice, " О race of Hashem !
I see my people not pointing on the foe
Their laances, and the pillars of the Faith totter."
They shun the fire, fearing to set their foot in it,
And consider not that shame follows without tarrying.
Can they endure such shame, the leaders in fight of the Arabs ?
Can they keep silence in such dishonour, the heroes of the Persians ?
Ah ! if they will not out of zeal defend their Faith,
Yet out of jealousy should they guard what is to them precious and holy.-f
And if they dread, on naked fields without shelter, the raging of the fight,
Should they not yet engage in the fight for very lust of spoil ?"