suno momino, karbala ki kahani
bahattar musafir, na dana na pani
duniya husain ki hai zamana husain ka
duniya husain ki hai zamana husain ka
karbal me lut gaya hai gharana husain ka
duniya husain ki hai zamana husain ka
duniya husain ki hai zamana husain ka

jangal me aa pade hai madine ko chhod ke
khaime me rah gaya hai thikana husain ka
phaili gali gali me shahdat ki roshani
gham aa gaya char jalana husain ka
khali rahi na mangne walo ki jholiya
sabke liye khula hai khazana husain ka
duniya husain ki hai zamana husain ka
duniya husain ki hai zamana husain ka

utara jo karbala me madine ka kafila
tarikh do thi aur mohrram ka chaand tha
lakhon udhar the aur bahamtar the is taraf
shaitan us taraf tha pir paighambar is taraf
sahara ki tej dhoop thi pani bhi band tha
charo taraf the shor qayamat buland tha
muskil se lal shor se sahil ke samne
haक़ aa gaya ladai ka katil ke samne

akbar ka jism tiro se chalni kiya gaya
unko unhi ke khoon ka tohfa diya gaya
kasim bahar aane se pehle ujad gaye
dulha bane to maut ke hathon me pad gaye
bechari ek raat me bewa hui dhulhan
shadi ki odni se banaya gaya kafan
khaime me bibiyo ka ajab haal jar tha
aansu the sabki aankon me dil bekarar tha

pehra laga hua tha nadi par idhar udhar
lekin pahuch gaye wahan abaash naam har
mashki ja phar ke nikle to dushman the samne
tanha the phir bhi haar na mani imam ne
charo taraf se unpe kiya katilo ne vaar
sau tir aakar ho gaye chhagar ke aar paar
paani tamaam futh ke raste me beh gaya
khumba husan husain ke khun ka pyasa hi reh gaya

che maah ka vo aswar maasum haay haye
paani na ho to kya kare majlum haye haye
bache ka haal dekh ke moula huye nidhal
sukhe the hoth pyas se murjhaye the gal
ek tir aake maut ka saaman ho gaya
bachcha tadap ke god me bejaan ho gaya
chullu me khun le ke hawa me udha diya
ibne aali ne sabar ka rasta dikha diya

khaime me sabko sabar dilaya husain ne
bimar ko gale se lagaya husain ne
sabse kaha husain ne ab rangne hum chale
talwar sir pe tut ke tire sitam chale
muktal me aake aakhri sajda ada kiya
bachpan me jo kiya tha vo ada wafa kiya
daulat ke vaste, na to inaam ke liye
pyase shahid ho gaye islaam ke liye
islaam ke liye, islaam ke liye
islaam ke liye

Listen, believers, to Karbala's tale,
Seventy-two travelers, thirst and wail.
The world is Hussein's, the era his own,
In Karbala, his household overthrown.
The world is Hussein's, the era his own.

Into the desert, from Medina's grace,
Leaving behind his sacred resting place.
The tents remain, his destined keep,
Martyrdom's light in every street does seep.
Four days of thirst, the fire's embrace,
For those who sought, a hidden space.
His treasure flows, a boundless art,
The world is Hussein's, the era's heart.

The caravan arrived, from Medina's fold,
The second of Muharram, a story told.
A million stood opposed, seventy-two stood fast,
Satan's shadow, with the righteous cast.
The desert sun, a scorching plight,
Water denied, a desperate fight.
The cries of judgment, a clamoring sound,
Before the killer, justice was found.

Akbar's body, pierced by arrows' sting,
His own blood offered, a mournful thing.
Qasim's spring, before the blooming flowers,
A bridegroom lost to death's dark hours.
A widow's grief in a single night,
Her wedding veil, a shroud of white.
In the tents, the women's sorrow deep,
Tears in their eyes, their hearts to weep.

The river guarded, on every side,
But Abbas reached, with nothing to hide.
Alone he stood, against the foe's array,
The Imam's strength would not give way.
From all directions, the killers came,
A hundred arrows, in his body's frame.
The water spilled, upon the burning sand,
Hussein's thirst, a desolate command.

The six-month-old, a helpless plea,
No water found, oh agony.
The child's plight, the Imam's despair,
Lips parched and cracked, a heavy care.
One arrow struck, a fatal blow,
The child gasped, in the dust below.
Blood in his hands, he lifted high,
Ibn Ali showed, how to bravely die.

In the tents, Hussein, with words of grace,
The ailing embraced, in love's embrace.
"Now we depart," Hussein then said,
Swords will fall, and arrows sped.
Into the field, the final bow,
Childhood vows, he would bestow.
Not for wealth, nor worldly prize,
They fell as martyrs, for Islam's skies.
For Islam, for Islam, for Islam's cry.