Subhana Mawlid. How holy is the infant whose cry Untied the knot of Adam's sorrow. How pure the mother's pain That became a mercy for all worlds.
Holy is the dawn that broke without a shadow, Glory to the night that split for his arrival. When the universe held its breath— A pulse in the dark womb of time, A light not born of fire, nor of sun, But of the command: "Be."
Literal Core: Glory be to the moment of his coming.
The earth trembled not from weight, But from joy. The idols bowed their foreheads into dust, And the crescent moon came close enough to whisper.