From cradle,
Man perched on every word heard
Crawled to wrap the Qolam around his tiny little fingers,
A little one thirsts for knowledge.

Flapping the wings of time,
Man became of product of diverse ‘ilm,
A vessel — half filled.

O son of Adam,
Man is never a miracle of reaching destinations,
But the noor of ‘ilm is what sails him.

O daughter of Hawah,
Widen the search for it’s your lost property.
Consume it for it enlightens the heart.

O you created from drops of slimy water,
‘Ilm is your wealth, a reflection of your self-worth
Be on a constant pursuit to fill that vessel.

With the right intent;
for every mind liberated is a light squinted through the eye.

For rays of knowledge are called from disarrays.

For your Rabb taught to man by pen what he knew not.

For the stain of ink on the clothes is the trademark of pious scholars.

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