Hath the Lord plucked the Star?
Soft eyes from the planet fretted below
Melancholy’s breeze wafted o’er the lamp
Pale cloth and the Book rustled for speech
The Meccans, the earliest faithfuls
Bade farewell to kins and loved ones
The Hegira begins, to open a new front,
Obeying none but thy Lord`s command
As Muhajir, they trodded the burning desert sands
Seeking refuge in the promised lands
As fugitive unto The Lord and his Messenger
Yathrib be our destination, and
Allah be our destiny
O Prophet of Prophets,
So sang the welcome by the Ansar,
Praise be to The Lord, Allah
Lord of the worlds,
Poems 
