O my Lord, her days and her years passed by, and whenever she saw the
morning light she wept over the sorrows of Thy servants, and when the
evening shadows fell she cried and called out and burned in a fiery
anguish for what had befallen Thy bondsmen. And she arose with all her
strength to serve Thee, to beseech the Heaven of Thy mercy, and in
lowliness to entreat Thee and to rest her heart upon Thee. And she came
forth veiled in holiness, her garments unspotted by the nature of Thy
people, and she entered into wedlock with Thy servant on whom Thou didst
confer Thy richest gifts, and in whom Thou didst reveal the ensigns of
Thine endless mercy, and whose face, in Thine all-glorious Realm, Thou
didst make to shine with everlasting light. She married him whom Thou
didst lodge in the assemblage of reunion, one with the Company on high;
him whom Thou didst cause to eat of all heavenly foods, him on whom Thou
didst shower Thy blessings, on whom Thou didst bestow the title: Martyrs’
King.
And she dwelt for some years under the protection of that manifest Light;
and with all her soul she served at Thy Threshold, holy and luminous;
preparing foods and a place of rest and couches for all Thy loved ones
that came, and she had no other joy but this. Lowly and humble she was
before each of Thy handmaids, deferring to each, serving each one with her
heart and soul and her whole being, out of love for Thy beauty, and
seeking to win Thy good pleasure. Until her house became known by Thy
name, and the fame of her husband was noised abroad, as one belonging to
Thee, and the Land of Sád (Iṣfáhán) shook and exulted for joy, because of
continual blessings from this mighty champion of Thine; and the scented
herbage of Thy knowledge and the roses of Thy bounty began to burgeon out,
and a great multitude was led to the waters of Thy mercy.
Then the ignoble and the ignorant amongst Thy creatures rose against him,
and with tyranny and malice they pronounced his death; and void of
justice, with harsh oppression, they shed his immaculate blood. Under the
glittering sword that noble personage cried out to Thee: “Praised be Thou,
O my God, that on the Promised Day, Thou hast helped me to attain this
manifest grace; that Thou hast reddened the dust with my blood, spilled
out upon Thy path, so that it puts forth crimson flowers. Favor and grace
are Thine, to grant me this gift which in all the world I longed for most.
Thanks be unto Thee that Thou didst succor me and confirm me and didst
give me to drink of this cup that was tempered at the camphor
fountain(104)—on the Day of Manifestation, at the hands of the cupbearer
of martyrdom, in the assemblage of delights. Thou art verily the One full
of grace, the Generous, the Bestower.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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