Muezzin, have you prayer
For those who dwell as flesh
In paradise not theirs,
Knowledge beyond their reach
And ignorance no fruit?
Or has the serpent’s Dutch,
Becoming yours, worn mute
The tongue of anger, breath
Of truth? Does quiet doubt
Rebuke alone that faith
You honor in your gray,
Bare minarets, your dearth
Of all idolatry,
That it should see you kneel,
Subject, at feet of clay,
With kaffırs brought to heel?
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