فَنَظَرْتُ فَإِذَا لَيْسَ لِي رَافِدٌ، وَلاَ ذَابٌّ وَلاَ مُسَاعِدٌ، إِلاَّ أَهْلَ بَيْتِي، فَضَنِنْتُ بِهِمْ عَنِ الْمَنِيَّةِ، فَأَغْضَيْتُ عَلَى الْقَذى، وَجَرِعْتُ رِيقِي عَلَى الشَّجَا، وَصَبَرْتُ مِنْ كَظْمِ الغَيْظِ عَلى أَمَرَّ مِنَ العَلْقَمِ، وَآلَمَ لِلْقَلْبِ مِنْ خَزِّ الشِّفَارِ.
I looked around but found no one to shield me, protect me or help me except the members of my family. I refrained from flinging them into death and therefore closed my eyes despite the dust, kept swallowing saliva despite (the suffocation of) grief and endured pangs of anger although it was more bitter than colocynth and more grievous than the bite of knives.