Mother, don’t cry for me for our seperation will be brief
Under Tooba’s shade we shall meet again; in a land without sorrow or grief.
O mother, rejoice! For the mansion we were building is almost complete
Covered now in a foreign dust soon Baariq’s pure water will cleanse my feet.
As a lion you raised me; could I then lay dormant watching your sisters weep?
Eunuchs recline in couches, vain elegies murmuring! The brave their honour they must keep.
In His promise I have placed my trust so let all other men be liars
In the approval of wrong doers let the weak remain mired.
The enemy approaches; as ravenous jackals they have come
Fearing naught but His anger I hurry to face them; my blade flashing furiously they soon turn and run.
Of that cup it is written that each soul must drink
In what manner we will raise it on that should we think.
Mother, don’t cry for me for our seperation will be brief!