How nice it is, Ramadhan comes again,
The month of goodness, and all those nice things,
Fasting during the day, praying during the night,
Truly a blessing, such a remarkable sight.
Praying in the mosque, in the early of the night,
The last saf I stood, since no vacancy was in sight,
Yet tremendously distracting, I can’t help but think,
For those joyous children, seemed to disturb the lane.
The next day I went, perhaps luck was on my side,
I saw a lonely spot, thus stood at the fourth saf,
Not much trouble, nothing vexatious to be frank,
But amazingly enough, sullen people made my mood sank.
Onto the next day, I stepped into the mosque,
A little bit early, so I gained the third row,
Nicely proportioned, the people were friendly enough,
Yet the fans were vicious, blowing my telekung with force.
And so I persevered, gaining the second row,
Such nice view, for I nearly saw the world,
Yet what was a night, without a hole,
My head was often stumbled, by someone’s derriere—OH NO.
But nay, I won’t wave my white flag,
I am patient, and patient is I,
The very next day, I gained the first saf,
It was good alright, but drenched in sweat was I.
Night by night, I hope for serenity,
But impossible apparently, for someone like me,
Though what is life, without much poking,
No matter, I will just keep on trying.