1. The mantle of dusk adorned it with a starry brooch
And the night draped around it a hem of darkness.

2. I spend the night while morning has for me fresh attire
That casts off the murk as a garment torn apart.

3. The tongue of Ibn Ramla comes to me whispering
Telling in secret tales of the night now hushed and bowed.

4. And slain before me are wings of starlings,
Blue blades honed keen to slit the throat of gloom.