sighted is the Royal moon,
moon of moons.
The Air sang of its arrival;
singing to nostrils the rhythm of perfume.
The earth danced to its decline,
showers followed with grace.
Such were the entourage,
spraying, bowing and courting
it’s Royal Ramadan.
Permeating is the blessed drought rich in oasis.
The glorious dryness washes
off the muddy River of Nis which men bathe.
Noon is Night and the Moon is Light.
Love is bright and Share is right.
Now the oppressors are caged,
locked in depth of dungeons.
Praises! As mercy is back in town,
the mighty Huraira scampering rats of the soul.
Tributes are none but
heavenly recitals dipped in goodness
for Goodness sake.
And it’s said: strive not regret
the tribute of the bountiful drought-