Here, in the sun, by the hot and dusty way

Sits a man from the North gone blind.

In his hunger, he intones from an ancient lay

Of the ways of an Allah left behind.

But the crowd pass on, too dense to care or stay,

Too deaf to hear the news of the Allah left behind;

Yet he begs, and recites, and salutes the inner Allah

He believes is within each passer-by

For he sings of what he sees

Of a life of love and mercy,

We should live in Allah's sight.