حيدر ياعلي - علي بوحمد | Haidar, oh Ali - Ali Bouhamad

Haider, oh Ali, Haider, oh Ali, Haider, oh Ali, Haider, oh Ali, even if the soul perishes other than you, I will not love in the fire

even if they burn you, oh Murtada, speak from the world of the world,

your breath is breathed in, I

repeat your name on the wounded, they saw my wounds, oh Ali, oh

Haider, oh Haider, the sweetest cry for help to Ali, oh

Ali, what Someone make me forget your love, oh light of my

eyes Your love ran in my blood Above the cradle, on my hand, I sang

My mother’s voice announced it to you officially I have become

yours And said your name before mine Your love ran in my blood Above

the cradle, on my hand, I sang My mother’s voice announced it to you

officially I have become yours And said your name before mine Someone,

Ali, someone,

Ali Alone,

Ali, alone,

Ali, in love my heart is infatuated, O Magus of love, for you are

the Lord of love and the secret is in coffee. I had a father who loved you, he raised me from the

love of your name Ali, Ali Samal, Ali,

Haidar, Haidar, and every life begins and ends,

my master, I embraced you in my eyes, my master, your name is you Haider

Ayat is countless, so are you without a young man except Ali to

bear witness, that you may descend? And ascend like the soul, O Ali, but

your mind chants countless verses. Is there a youth to

witness except Ali? And ascend and descend like the soul, O

Ali, but your mind chants Haidar, O

Ali Haidar, O Ali Haidar, O Ali,

come, O Ali,

after this long secret. I want your eyes to look. So that

I may see a cheek from the smallest of the common people, if

Qanbar had not spent his time with you, come on, Hajj and success,

serve. If loving you was someone else’s sin, I would not

have loved you. We cursed you and your love is ours.

I saw you as an obligation, and you gave me the atmosphere of the rib. You were,

O son of Abu Talib, the most precious support, and the eye never

learns about

the margin, it is obligatory. Who is the first to Ali, Ali, the rib,

O son of Abu Talib, is the most precious support, and the eye will never

rise above the

rib, O Ali,

O Ali, O Ali