https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bawa_Muhaiyaddeen
Poor
silly boys they don’t know
on
the third floor of my dorm
I
can hear the bells of vespers call
the
priests from their study halls
and
like Ibn Rushd the Cordoban
we
hear the Maghrib sunset song
the muezzin holds
the tone so long
long
after the September sun has gone
(From
the poem, “Saint Cynthia” in Leftovers)
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