To the memory of my father rahimahullah

For you,
It’s cool to drive home
An almond-eyed cool blonde
Picked up in Paris or in Rome.
For you,
It’s cool to score a goal in Liverpool
Against Real Madrid or Lazio Rome.
For you,
It must be fine to savour wine
And spaghetti while listening to Pavarotti.
For you,
It’s great to have £ 8,000 in hand
Or to land a higher rank in a central bank.
For you,
It’s a delight to the eyes
To watch sunrise in the dunes of Morocco.
For you,
It’s beyond telling the joy of jogging in Monaco.
Let alone the joy of shopping in Hanoi

[b]No more will you knock at our door.
No more will you walk on our floor.
No more will you drink our tea.
No more will you see what we see.
No more will you hear what we hear.
No more will you fear a fear.
No more will you shed a tear.
No more will you enjoy our foods.
No more will you tread our roads.
No more will you roam our woods.
No more will you inquire after me.
No more will you smile at me.
No more will you call my name,
But all the same
And despite all the pain
You stood to gain
When you clearly said
Just days before you were dead:
أشهد أن لا إلاه إلا الله

What’s wrong with your tongue?
Can’t you say Subhanallah?
Can’t you say Ma Sha Allah?
Shake off that gloom!
And let your face bloom!
Or did your team go down in esteem
By losing Three-Nil to Brazil?
Or did you lose your job?
Oh, no, don’t be a snob!
Don’t ape those in good shape!
Say Subhanallah! Say Ma Sha Allah!
And pray and pray to Allah
Till hope comes your way,
Ray by ray!
No, don’t think of Tsunami!
Think of the beaches of Miami!
Think of Amazon flowers!
Think of New York towers!
Don’t think of King Lear or even Shakespeare!
But think of Allah and you’ll steer
Right for the Light of Faith –
The Faith that’ll give you powers
And blessings in showers,
And your face will excel all flowers
In beauty and freshness!
Blessed be Allah! And Allah bless you,

[b]The child was playing with other children in an open ground. He was the most handsome of them all and the worst-dressed. Some children teased him about his old jellaba that he wore everyday while today was a day of eed. An elder cousin of his rebuked the teasers, saying they were jealous of him because he was more good-looking than them. A young man stood at the edge of the open ground and waved to the handsome child, who went to him hesitantly.
“Hassan Uld Muhammad, is it you?” said the young man.
“Yes, it’s me,” replied the child.
“Where’s your father?”

What can I say on your day
When every day is your day ?
O Muhammad ! O Taha ! O shafi’na on the Last Day !
From the day you stood to say :
O Man ! I’m but a man
Sent to save you, sent to tell you
The way that’ll lead you away
From the one who led you astray
To the One Who made you ’n the best way
And gave you beauty and bounty in every way
And will yet give you joy where you’ll stay
For ever and ever, as you say !
From that day,
O Muhammad ! O Taha ! O shafi’na on the Last Day !
Men came to you on foot and horseback ;
They said as you said
And prayed as you prayed
And when attacked, they fought back.
You lived in a shack
While your beauty was brighter than the moon ;
You ate with your hands
While one with your beauty would use a gold spoon ;
You sat on the sands