Ah, sleek moonlight, velvety soft,
Unfurls the path to the Taraweeh Mosque.
Countless fireflies, on fine silken wings,
Catch fast in the silver weave of lunar groves.
Soon, the first Ramadan crescent blooms above,
While the silent tuberose lingers, imprinting deeper still.
Oof—how many did I embrace? One or two?
Myriads light the way to the Taraweeh Mosque.
It was only the other night—
The first crescent of Ramadan shimmered,
Piercing the flawless forehead of twilight,
In the hush of the fading dusk.
Even now, across the half-lit horizon,
Sleepless full-moon stars drift,
While the first, blessed crescent of Ramadan
Moves on in seamless procession.
When will the celebration reach its full bloom?
Today marks the fourteenth fast,
Already shining upon the fourteenth moon!
