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Mar 2021
~ Daniil Andreev ~

The predawn breeze caresses eternally sacred stones.
The muezzin raises his hands, ready to chant the adhan
Over the somber Galilee, where time quietly flows
Through Cana's and Bethlehem's ashes. He calls: Β«Allah-il-AllahΒ».

As though a rose mirage, Damascus groves and temples
Will shimmer. Chador-clad women are beading gems, never in rush.
The breeze blows now and then, and waves gently bring their favors;
The summoning trumpets of Angel, Lion, and Eagle are hushed.

Yet, fishing nets' ever wistful, just as when the Lamb was slain.
The crusaders' coffins are sleeping, scenting of cedar and myrrh.
And motley throngs will be praying time and time again,
Scurrying to His Sepulcher from all over the earth.
Written by
Vyas  37/M/Russia
     Bogdan Dragos, Imran Islam and Vyas
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