Grandfather, if I want to talk about you, no letters enough , nor ink enough, not even shed tears enough.
Despite the few years I have lived in your confines, your image has been engraved in my memory, and your words and your evening conversations have decided to leave me.
I still remember you, my grandfather, and I remember your favorite place, where you practice your rituals with care, concentration and reverence.
I have always been strict with everyone regarding that time of the evening, when you leave yourself for everyone, to fall into that room, and you will find the carpet of prayer, and hold the Book of God in your hands to sing a few verses of the Holy Quran with your honorable voice that was able to pass between my laughter and my hands. My uncle, and attractive to your room and open it and I try hard not to issue that annoying squeak to me and you, but every time he let me down and become stronger and stronger, turn your face to the door of the room has been angry with you. Who dare to violate your laws and you in your camps ?!
But once you see me, you give me that special smile that sang me about the world and what is in it, a smile through which I adore all the twists that permeate your eyes. Then I extend your hands to my side. I run to get your hands to hear that flow of supplications and blessings. And you teach me many, many of the rules of Tajweed, which I stammered the most stammering desire to pronounce the exits characters and descriptions in the best, Vnsjm in my attempts and I wake up only on the sound of your laughter and you see me red because of my suffering. Then take me to the shelves of your library, and make me pick books What I liked, to read it on my ears and I stop you from time to time, you Explain to me the word or phrase could not be absorbed.
May God have mercy on you, my grandfather, and I will keep you in peace, and I will make you happy for every letter you have taught me.
I commend you for my writing, my success, my prayers, and my prayers
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