• to • my • precious • mother •

Ilā Ummī Al-Ghāliyah
.

Written by one of the Mujāhidīn in the Arabian Peninsula,

The Brother, Usāmah Al-Khālidī (may Allāh preserve him)

Ah! My mother, weep not for your son

For to the Divine Promise and Gardens, I have gone,

To the One Who can pardon my sins

And that which these two hands have transgressed in,

And I have left the amusements of the Lowly World

For a people who find in it their aspirations and goals,

And for the Pleasure of my Lord, I have given my soul

When He called me, I answered the Call,

Cry not, O Mother, for a son

Who went forth towards the sharp spears,

Seeking death in honour and pride

Refusing to live in humiliation,

I have left my blood, Precious Mother, behind me

Showing the path to the Gardens,

And here are my scattered limbs, narrating

To those who yearn, that this is the dowry (Mahr) for the Beautiful Maidens,

But the Dīn of Allāh, I testify, is more precious

To me than this life, in which all are bound to perish,

Precious Mother, I am wearing a crown

And dwelling in Castles, amongst the Choirs,

With a Virgin who hums to me melodies

Giving me drink from the tips of her fingers,

Because I fought, I have been embraced by her breasts

And her heart which is full of affection,

And verily I hope for a Day

When for you I can intercede,

So patience, in the Path of Allāh, patience

Because O Precious Mother, the Lowly World is a few seconds.

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