 The sun sets and is silent, there is no one that's patient, as hearts break for this moment, the one who sees Ali aches. Named Haidar, by his mother killed 35 at Badr and raised the gate of Khaybar when finding her rib, he shakes. He sits curled up and crying. A lion of God wailing and every cry is asking, how can Fatima's rib break? A tragedy he has found. He sheds tears that shake the ground. Every time they hear a sound, the sound of her rib breaking. Her rib reaches his finger, the thought of it is torture. He cannot bear to touch her the door he's remembering, between the door and the wall, the one from heaven would fall and when for help she would call, for Ali she'd be screaming. At Khaybar Ali would stand, the moon upon earth would land, he raised the gate with his hand but he couldn't touch her rib. The one who never felt fear is tortured by every tear he wishes he wasn't here and was still fighting Marhad, give Ali any battle, any pain, any trial, just no rib and no nail and no Muhsin's empty crib.