In the Name of Allah, Most Gracious, Most Merciful
grieving eyes like the sky fall,
The burden of suffering imposed on their petals.
And when all work stops and freezes time.
They become these widows, deprived of their spring.
is the emptiness of the princes whose hearts have fallen;
the lure of battle they have died.
And red roses was draped in black.
The heart full of blood, drowning all their hopes.
They observe death and its routes, dignified funeral
Where have replaced the wedding.
relive their love on the banks of Firdaus.
At the sight of their men become fixtures.
war brides love martyrs.
They saw the hawks chase doves
And roses bloom ahead of combat heroes graves
away, one last smile.
Gardens Caucasus become cemeteries.
And the breezes that caress the dead plains.
And the nights of insomnia in the reveries of hatred.
Vibrates yet this love in their souls as a whole.
blood of the oppressors, run rivers,
To have transformed our cradles coffins.
Verses of the Holy Book have softened the grief, warmed
And the tears of widows princesses.
infants died without knowing peace.
And their blood is still shining on the lips tongues.
They will bury themselves underground.
And mourn their distress in a thick silence.
Feelings died in agony bloody
When the smell of horror spreads through the air.
messages of love remembered endless. The faces have
pallor funeral for complexion.
Impetuous despair in a heart of bitterness.
If there was faith and splendid foam.
What would happen to their widows hoping warriors?
she cried rivers until the Last Day? And
kohl traced paths tearful
on their cheeks, that nobody dare touch.
Fatherless, the husband pulled out. Under
Willow solitary, they will s'ombrager. O
the dark roses adorned with black diamonds! Whatever you pray
revive your hopes:
lost lovers never be a time.
They write their love for you with their blood.
Kisses deposited on the fronts cooled
Corpses elongated eyes to Heaven.
Weep not for those brave men who gave you roses,
Preferring the afterlife, the Hi of their cause.
Their petals, the martyrs, have reserved their charms.
the morning dew lays her tears.
pain of seeing these heroes die they loved.
And laughter, gone, forever.
These queens of the war to look invisible.
Black Roses blooming on fields of suffering.
O brave companions of the fight, rush.
In defense of a book forever invincible.
: Abu-Hind 2011:: www.abu-hind.blogspot.com:
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