Morning Call Poem by Mohammad Younus

In the late hours of night, I stood still,
on the prayer mat behind my eyelids,
Listening to harp sounding in my eyes,
At the dawn, the air was cool with dew,
The mellow music riding on the breeze...
hung in the thick mist in the atmosphere;
Under the spell of the wine of love,
I started up collecting the musical waves...
in my two bowls,
These musical waves were cool, and fresh...
as camphor,
And I was sitting still, I did not say a word,
It was the bird unseen that sang in the pond...
from the willow thicket,
The almond trees were shedding their flowers,
Upon the green turf in the almond garden,
The bees rushed in swarms humming aloud,
Hu, hu, hu, hu, hu, hu, hu, hu, hu, hu, hu, hu, hu...
On the side of the garden the muazzin from
the minaret...
...of the nearby shrine was giving the morning call,
The morning singing birds as if woke with the call,
They resonated the air with their sweet chatter,
As if bracelets, pendants, and anklets were jingling,
The golden dust of music collected on my face,
I did not ask God for any thing but this divine sound.

Mykoul