Stop the clocks, telephones off!

Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone

Silence the pianos with muffled drums

Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come

Let the airplanes circle moaning overhead

Scribbling on the sky the message He is dead!

Put the bows round the white neck of doves.

Let the guards wear black cotton gloves

The stars are not wanted now, put out everyone

Pack up the moon, and dismantle the sun

Pour away the oceans and sweep away the woods

For nothing now can come to any good

Malkul mawt has done his job

All there is left is to sob

For he is dead

His soul with the owner of all, Allah.

© Abra_Muslimah


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