DANIEL MOORE (Abd al-Hayy)


4 Ramadan



 Each year a segment of my time on earth turns dry
   and takes me to the tar edge of my life.
 I turn from food and drink and lust of eye
   (and making love in daylight with my wife).

 Each time it comes the passage becomes clear
   that thrusts me forward to that day of death,
 but there's a sweetness that's beyond compare
   (greater than the rankness of my breath).

 A something that's like ease, a strength beyond my will
   sustains the difficulty makes the day all right,
 creates a lake inside the heart that's still
   and casts a golden glow upon the night.

 Each year it comes, my dread turns into quiet--
 hardship becomes ease, delight my diet.