Ghurra-e-

The First Crescent of Shawwal, or The Eid Crescent

O, crescent of Shawwal, light to the fasting eye, Come forth, for all of Islam awaited you on high.

Upon your brow is written the message of the Eid; Your twilight is the prelude to a morning of delight.

You are the mirror of the Radiant Nation's past, O, new moon! Our ancient love for you is deep and vast.

Beneath the flag where we would put our swords to the test, And dye our robes in crimson from the blood of the enemy's breast.

Your destiny is to embrace that very standard's flight, And in your growing beauty lies the Nation's honor and its light.

Our nation nurtures friendship, and your law is loyalty; This silver robe you wear inspires love for all to see.

From your celestial peak, now gaze upon this worldly place, From your own height, behold our home's debased and fallen state.

Behold the caravans, their speed a flash of lightning bright; And behold the weary traveler, who loathes his destination's sight.

Seeing you upon the horizon, we would scatter gems with glee; O, empty chalice! Now behold our present poverty.

The Muslims are now prisoners in sectarianism's chains; Behold your own freedom, and then behold their captive pains.

Behold within the mosque the Sheikh's own broken rosary-thread; And in the idol-temple, the Brahmin's steadfast sacred cord instead.

Behold the 'unbelievers' and their Muslim-like accord; And then behold the Muslims, turning on their own the sword.

Behold the rain of stones of fate, a storm of tragedy; And behold the pitied Nation's wall of mirrors, its fragility.

Yes, behold the sycophancy of those who once had pride; And behold the self-respect of those the world had cast aside.

The very one we taught the gentle grace of eloquence, Behold that speechless rival now, his fiery confidence.

Hear the songs of celebration in the palaces of the West; And then behold in Persia, the preparations for lament.

The foolish Turk has torn to shreds the Caliphate's fine robe; Behold the Muslim's naivete, and others' cunning 'cross the globe.

Like a mirror, see all this, and then in silence stay; In the tumult of today, be lost in songs of yesterday.