On the occasion of the birthday of Imam Hasan (PBUH), we present you an interesting poem by Iran's English language poet, Dr. Hasan Najafi that appeared in the Tehran-based English newspaper, Kayhan International
The first grandson to the Prophet is born
In the field of gold diamond is the corn,
Named the Prophet the babe 'Hasan',
That hailed to him from heaven.
Means ‘Excellent’ and to the excellent he a paragon,
Inherited the qualities from the Prophet as does a son,
The Prophet fed him upon his thumb all the infancy
He grew up with prophetic qualities – all in efficiency
His demeanor, his conduct, his rectitude
His walk, his talk, his patience, his fortitude
Resembled to the Prophet as his heritage
As if two souls in a body or two birds in a cage,
The charm of his voice enchanted the ears,
His existence was a constant spring of the years.
Zahra his mother, Ali his father;
And his riding mount was the Prophet's shoulder.
He is the Lord of the Youths of Heaven
And on earth in every virtue he is a paragon
If he spoke, it was wisdom, if silent, a necessity;
It is no praise to him, beyond praise stands his entity.
Miraculous his person and beyond intellect his proceeds;
He in every age is a need and a school hid in his deeds.
Among prophets we find none to him to compete,
He stands high beyond the intellect’s hit.
You are known as the 'Generous of the House'
Whoever knocks your door, disappointed never goes.
Confident of your compliance if one calls you
Beyond expectation gets and much he will receive.
Twenty-five times on foot the “Hajj” you performed;
News of the next world you informed.
Your glare is a veil that conceals you from view;
Your person satiates the mankind like the dew.
In distress to us you are best known
In hope our hearts are fixed on you alone.
Your poet is named after you;
Enough to me shall shadow me you.
You owe me nothing nor owe I any due
For the sake of name it is, I pursue.
Hasan! Indeed you are Excellent and I only the name
It is yours shall help me when needs make me lame.
In your name I live and in your name I die
Not much it is if I ask you smile, once to me;
Or, if not, dart an askance from the corner of your eye.
Thank you, Sir! I’m sure you will give the both to me.
