313 - The Battle of Karbala

Описание: This epic heavy metal song is a dramatic chronicle of a historical battle, told through the prism of sacrifice, injustice and unwavering faith. It focuses on the contrast between the pure soul of Husayn ibn Ali, the grandson of the Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon Him, and the decadent cruelty of the tyrant Yazid, who is a symbol of modern tyranny. The atmosphere is heavy, colored by the thirst of the burning desert and the blood of the innocent. Through the images of the arrow hitting the baby, the heroic fall of the steel-armed giant Abbas ibn Ali and the final victim on the sand, the poem grows from a description of defeat to the triumph of the spirit over oblivion. It is a hymn about the debt of the soul, the flame that does not go out and the shame that follows the tyrant forever. This is a longer version of a paper on the same topic. I developed both songs in parallel, which is why they share many verses. In the end I decided to publish them both.



The Battle of Karbala


Upon the burning sands where the River runs deep,
The noble Grandson of the Prophet comes to sleep,
The Euphrates flows out of reach,
The desert heat begins to preach,
Thirst is burning in the throat,
Shadows of the warrior boat,
Heaven turns to gray!
Heaven turns to gray!
Heaven turns to gray!
Heaven turns to gray!

Ten thousand blades are gleaming in the noon-day sun,
The cruel siege has now begun,
Water denied to every one,
Children crying for a drop,
The mercy starts to final stop,
Dust is in the air,
Guilty men don't care!
Guilty men don't care!
Guilty men don't care!

A fool sits on the stolen throne,
With wine and sins he is alone,
Dressing monkeys in his silk,
Souring the mother's milk,
Curses on his name,
Yazid knows no shame!
Yazid knows no shame!
Yazid knows no shame!

A cradle rocks in quiet tent,
Milk is gone and lives are spent,
Six months old and parched with thirst,
Father fears the worst,
Arrow hits him first!
Arrow hits him first!
Arrow hits him first!

Giant man with arms of steel,
To no tyrant will he kneel!
Water for the kids,
Blood on sunken lids,
Arms are gone!

Giant man with arms of steel,
To no tyrant will he kneel!

Grandson stands alone,
Flesh is cut to bone,
Heaven starts to groan,
One last breath,
Knows his death!

Giant man with arms of steel,
To no tyrant will he kneel!

Heads on spear are high,
Tents begin to fry,
Light begins to die!

Giant man with arms of steel,
To no tyrant will he kneel!

Dust to dust!
Pain!
God is just!

Dark!
Blood!
Void!

The desert winds still whisper names the earth will not forget,
Of those who stood against the dark, a soul-bound sacred debt.
Yazid remains a shadow lost to rot and wine and shame,
While history lights a candle for the Master’s holy name.
The tents are burned to ashes, but the message is a flame,
The world will always weep for those who died without a blame.



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