The battle has been lost. It began whilst the embers of the last Khilafah State were still burning, soon to be extinguished. Whilst the poet’s ink was fresh on the page, when he cried, The wedding songs turned into echoes of mourning, And your death was announced within the signs of joy, You were shrouded in the night of wedding with its dress, And you were buried at the time of morning break, You were escorted to your burial in horror, with the tears of a laughing (person), In every area; and with agony of drunkenness of a conscious (person). Minarets and minbars shouted for you, Kingdoms and provinces cried on you, India is bewildered and Egypt is sad, And she cries on you with flowing tears. Ash-Sham, Iraq and Persia ask, Is there anyone who wiped the Khilafah from our lands? All the great and the good attended your funeral, They sat there in the seats of mourning, O men! Watch a murdered noble-born (lady), She was killed without sin or guilt. Th
"Thoughts are the greatest wealth of any nation."