The poet Nasr Musa Abu Shahada, from the village of Ghajar in the Golan, wrote the poem “The Pain of Tragedy,” dedicated to the souls of the martyrs of Majdal Shams. It reads:
The pain of tragedy has stained the eyelids
Its embers have scorched the bodies
Woe to a calamity while the sky is gloomy
Can deep sorrow ever leave a human be?
An event, at whose occurrence hearts have suffered
It has shaken the very foundations with the horror of death
Children of an era enjoying a game
And a beautiful tomorrow, or seeing safety
Children of a generation believing in a smile
Betrayed by the hands of death in humiliation
Indeed, separation is the pang of a lifetime that
Is branded and can never be forgotten
It happened, and we know not how to repel its decree
And death sought no permission
This is the Golan weeping in agony
And silence refuses to reveal its suffering
These are the mothers' hearts scorched
And the eye sheds its tears in a flow
And a father seeks refuge in a shimmering grief
As the children donned the shrouds of sorrow
A sister supplicates to her Lord for her brother
And death did not grant him a warning
In a moment before sunset, suddenly
They were lost, and death asked not for leave
What is the sin of the budding children who blossomed
In their brilliance, meeting love and quenching thirst
Our children are the dream of innocence, a banner
That shone, illuminating the colors for its land
And their cheeks like fair meadows in tenderness
And innocence, how sweet are the children
We weep over the severity of the calamity with a tear
In pain, and a hot tear that has stained homelands
O you whose parting and departure is dear
You have etched sorrows upon hearts
And the soul burns from the flame of its affliction
And the self carries a pang and a place
O you who have laid down hearts, for indeed
Your dwelling is a soul that has become a title
Patience for God’s decree in the horror of a catastrophe
That burned hearts and rooted sorrows
Walk toward the path of Paradise in splendor
Say aloud what has harmed us
And a tear will surely fall from eyes
Flowing on the cheek of time for an age
A thousand mercies, a flame among them
The goodness of childhood weighs down the scale
Indeed, the Will has decreed its order
The command of the Ordainer from His height, a declaration
May my Lord forgive what has befallen and what has transpired
The disaster happened, and would that it had not