The Crescent’s Sorrow

“Melancholia lulls its sweet dirges, 

Haunting the nights through its beauty,

Rue, a spectral wraith, whispers softly, Entwining its tendrils with sorrow's embrace.

Oh month of the Quran,

Where have you gone?

Come back to me,

O blessed month.

Rue's presence: a perennial disease,

Deep-rooted in human flesh,

A reminder of time's evanescence,

And of what could have been.

Oh month of the Quran,

Where have you gone?

Come back to me,

O blessed month.

Veils of silence enshroud my speech,

Compelled into silence, 

Yearning for time to rewind,

An entrenched desire to re-experience what once was.

Oh month of the Quran,

Where have you gone?

Come back to me,

O blessed month.

I promise to uphold your strength,

Through hijri and beyond,

Till we reunite again,

If we reunite again.”