From under the horizon’s skirt is appearing; the day and night’s virgin daughter that is dawn.

The sky has completed benedictions for the star’s crop. The sun has decorated the eastern horizon with mirrors.

The sky, getting news of the arrival of the sun has packed up night’s litter on dust-cloud’s shoulders.

The sun’s flame seems to be the produce of this field which was sown by sky’s farmer as sparks of stars.

The morning star is on the way from the sky retrieving as the last nightly worshiper from the mosque be retrieving.

What a beautiful sight it is as somebody slowly draws the bright sword from the sheath’s darkness.

The dawn’s meaning in the eastern horizon is hidden aas inside the goblet the pleasant wine is hidden.

The dawn is under the skirt of the friendly breeze; the noise of the conchis mixed with the call of adhan.

All the singing birds woke up by the cuckoo’s call; every string of dawn’s system has become musical.