| The Word of Allah echoes in this Pacific clime
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| Far away from the austere mountain of Hira,
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| Yet, Its power remains, Its resonance firm
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| As It penetrates the soul of this gentle people,
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| Bearers of Its message in this land far away.
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| The Word is burned into the substance of their souls,
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| Emanating as golden light appearing as threads,
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| Weaving in songkets patterns that allude
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| To that magic beauty that to Heaven belongs.
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| Forms in flora in symmetry bound
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| In a geometry that feeds the inner eye
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| In colors, in theopanies that remold the soul
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| With majestic Quranic verses the unifying crown.
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| How far we wander away from our abode
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| To be recalled by the Word and Its distant echoes
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| In this fleeting journey of life, of His Presence,
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| Reflected in tile patterns of the Alhambra and Seville,
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| As well as in the songkets of Terengganu and the nearby.
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| From East to West the Light of His Word does shine,
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| For It issues from that central Pole Divine,
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| Which is neither to the East nor the West confined,
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| And yet both East and West in Its Light unites. |