Crescent moon,
and a star, adjacent, almost in its pocket
Silver sliver
opened up and out
to the silent, velvet sky’s Northeast,
the star (almost) in its cradle
Is this some sign,
perhaps,
that Mohammed spoke of?
And why is it here this morning?
Does it herald in
a day of fortuitous possibilities?
Or does it warn
of tempests and tumult,
calling us
to summon our courage,
to resist, to stand strong
in the midst of temptations to come?
(I saw a crescent moon one morning... well, this is the story...)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Or...maybe a moon is just a moon? Your question, however, cannot be ignored. Neither can such excellent writing.