The Sermon Poem by Muhammad Shanazar

The forceful wings of ethereal self,
Made me fly to the sky,
Transported to the world higher,
Bigger, larger and wider than ours.

Placed I was amid the residences,
Thick, white all; high and small;
I strolled and strolled around,
In front of the big mosque I found,
A plain with myriads trees,
All green of the same size,
They seemed in order, stretched straight,
Extended in the long rows,
As million of soldiers stand still in formation,
And listen to the speech on the day of parade.

In the spacious hall of the mosque,
Squatted men in lines close,
Breathed deep with eyes shut,
As if they stroke upon the harp of heart.
The Imam sitting on the wooden stage,
Began to deliver the sermon on the verses,
“God is the best among the sustainers.”

Then one of the surrounding abodes,
I found my father with blessing looks,
Greeted, embraced he me with full vigour,
Upon his knees, when he sat,
Placed I my head weeping bitterly,
He slackened my pang by fondling,
His fingers through my disheveled hair.