Excerpt from 'Maqtal al-Husayn':
Never can I tell you enough about al-Qasim
Son of the chosen one al-Hasan,
Engaged in the war paying no heed
To what in it went on,
As if its swords to him spoke,
As if they were beauties with him flirting,
As if their lances were cups
Served to him by their waiter to drink.
Had he minded any danger or had he
Feared death, he would not have mended a shoe
In its midst before him stood his foe,
As many as the sands in count.
From beneath comes the assault and from high
He would not have worn on his head a shield.
So with his white sword he was painted red,
Except when you did see him being distracted
From the struggle, and souls do slacken,
And that was only a lion's slumber,
One who paid no heed to the number
Of his foes, of what their sword could do,
So he fell down and for help cried,
And the Prophet's grandson did to him respond,
And it was what it was from its da’i.
The falcon took him and with his peers joined.
Their first were killed and so was their last.
Oppressed was he, yet the sun's heads were ripe,
And only his sharp sword was the harvester,
Till became fed-up was the sword,
And from the sword the valley overflowed.
The dark clouds by the steeds raised
Were uncovered showing their riders
And what was hidden was revealed.
He was seen hugging on his chest a moon
Decorated by the blood on his forehead.
He took him carrying him to the camp
And his eyes were reddened by their tears.
On the page of the ground did his feet leave marks
Dotted by his tears, followed by his heart.
O what a shining moon that removed
With his eclipse how he wiped it out!