 Father, after you left me, Father, trials fell on me. O Father, O Muhammad, your absence burns an arrow. Does this detachment not ask of your daughter, do you know? O lights of my eyes and ears, from these eyes endless tears flow, he who abides in heavens, I'm in the house of sorrow. Father, do you recall me, Father, trials fell on me? I came to your grave with wounds that devils see as delight, wounds that if my husband saw, he teared down the day and night. Yet whilst tears rests in his eyes, for your speech still I await, must I be slapped once again? Two words from your grave ignite, Father, rise and defend me, Father, trials fell on me. Your daughter's eyes filled with tears, yet here I find you asleep. Know that for you, when I'd weep, one thousand angels would weep. Your city sleepers complain. Your city sleepers complain from my weeping they can't sleep. We built a house of sorrow and its tears, angels, they sweep. Father, do you need me? Father, do you heed me? Father, trials fell on me. Bismillah ar-Rahman ar-Raheem. In his final moments, the Prophet spoke to his daughter, she began to cry. Then she began to smile and laugh. The Prophet told her he will be leaving this world soon, but she will be the first to join him. After the death of the Prophet, she continually wore the scarf of mourning on her head, possessing crying eyes and a burning heart. She would cry so much that people complained to Imam A.S. She cries in the day we can't work, she cries at night we can't sleep. Please ask her to do one or the other. Imam A.S. made a little hut for her just outside the city gates, where she was free to mourn and weep without disturbing others. She would say, Father, oh Father, after you, I feel lonely. I have remained perplexed and deprived, my mouth is inclined to silence and my back is broken, and the wholesome water of life has become bitter to my taste. On an occasion, Um Salama says, when I went to see the lady of Islam, Fatimzal A.S., after the death of the Prophet, and asked her how she was, in reply, these meaningful sentences were spoken by her. She said, why are you asking me how I am, Um Salama? When I am caught in the middle of much sadness and suffering, on the one hand I have lost my Father, the Prophet, and on the other hand I see with my own eyes that there has been injustice done to his successor, Ali ibn Abi Talib. I swear to God that they have torn the curtain of his reverence, but I know that these are the grudges of Badr and the revenges of Uhud that were hidden in the hearts of the hypocrites. She was hurt. She was hurt. She was hurt so much that Fatimzahra A.S., even when she would leave the city, she would be scared to go alone. So she had to be accompanied by Imam Hassan and Imam Al Hussain, A.S. She was hurt so much that before she passed away, the people that persecuted her, the people that attacked her, tried to seek her apology. She sat with her back facing to them and said, you, O people, when the Prophet was around, when the Prophet was alive, you would tell him of your allegiance, you would tell him that your love for the family is great, but the Prophet has revealed the verse of the Qur'an. I don't ask of you anything other than love for my family. And this is how you treat the family of the Prophet. From your voice, Father, I'd learn my voice shook thrones of tyrants. This voice, once so sweet to you, shook their crowns and their garments. The moon itself fears my voice and shows me with its crescents. Known with my speech to my heart, I throw to you its remnants. Father, accept this from me. Father, trials fell on me. Once daily with every dawn, my house would yearn your presence. Father, this house daily cries, yet it's met by your silence. Father, the scent of fire replace its once sweet fragrance. And between the door and the wall, it crushed me in its grievance. Father, it complains to me. Father, after you left me, Father, I bring my child. Father, I bring my child still born to you I present. Yet I do not hear a voice from you. Why remain silent? I just hear its sweet voice ask, for what sin was my torment? If of me you do not ask, for my son do you lament? Father, I bring my child still born to you I present. Yet I do not hear a voice from you. Why remain silent? I just hear its sweet voice ask, for what sin was my torment? If of me you do not ask, for my son do you lament? Father, your absence pains me. Father, trials fell on the way.