Ziyarat Nahiya English | Translation

The Curse (La'an): O Allah, curse the tribe that killed Husayn. Curse those who gave the command, those who obeyed, those who tied the ropes of the tents, those who looted the saddles, and those who struck the holy face. O Allah, curse the killers of Husayn—from the first to the last—and drown them in the fire of Hell.

Peace be upon you, O son of the Messenger of Allah. Peace be upon you, O son of the Commander of the Faithful and the son of the Lady of Light (Fatima).

The Lament begins:

As one scholar noted: "When you read Ziyarat Nahiya, you are not just reading history. You are standing on the sand dunes of Karbala, hearing the neighing of the horses and the cry of the thirsty child." May Allah grant us the ability to truly understand the weight of these words and to live by the principles for which Imam Husayn gave his life.

In the vast ocean of Islamic supplications, few texts carry the raw, devastating emotional weight of Ziyarat Nahiya . Recited on the mournful day of Ashura (the 10th of Muharram), this sacred address is not merely a greeting to the martyred Imam Husayn (AS) but a political manifesto, a theological treatise, and a heart-wrenching elegy rolled into one. ziyarat nahiya english translation

I see your tents, pitched upon the banks of the Euphrates, yet you are denied a single drop of water. I see the women of prophethood, their veils snatched, their children crying out: ‘O thirst! O Uncle Abbas!’ I see Al-Abbas, the moon of the Hashimites, rushing into the water, only to be struck down while his hands were cut, refusing to drink while his brother Husayn remained thirsty.

I see Husayn, alone on the sands. His sword, Zulfiqar , is shattered. His body is pierced by seventy-two arrows, thirty-three stabs of spears, and thirty-four strikes of swords. He falls to the ground, whispering: ‘Is there any helper to help me? Is there any protector to protect the sanctity of the Messenger?’ The Curse (La'an): O Allah, curse the tribe

O Husayn, I bear witness that you are the light of the hearts and the life of the soul. If I was not there to help you in Karbala, and my hands were tied by the chains of time, then know that my heart weeps for you, my tongue curses your enemies, and my soul awaits the day of vengeance with your Qa’im (Imam Mahdi).

I see the cradle of Ali al-Asghar (the infant). You, O enemy of Allah, shot an arrow that lodged in the tiny neck of the six-month-old baby. Husayn caught the blood of his son in his cupped hands and threw it towards the sky—and not a single drop fell back to earth, as a sign of divine acceptance. Peace be upon you, O son of the Messenger of Allah

I see Ali al-Akbar, who resembled the Prophet Muhammad, charging into the battlefield. The spears pierced his chest, and he cried, ‘O Father! My grandfather’s greetings to you—he says: Come quickly, for the cup of martyrdom is full.’

"How can I not weep for you, when the pens of destiny have written upon my forehead the eternal separation from you? How can I not express my grief, when the news of the trampling of your body by horses was delivered to my ears?