Another Poem in Praise

You, for whom the nine folds of the shining heavens are but one pavilion of your royal tent. To serve as apprentices to your attendants, even the constellation Gemini has tightened its belt, eager to obey. The moon-faced beauties behind the veil of the unseen have grown weak-hearted at the touch of your pen. The foot of the sky was blistered by the stars when it tried to keep pace with your resolve. From the day the cloud saw your hand, in generosity it washed its own hands of the sea. In you the healing herb of your enemy grew unwilling into the wound in his flesh. May the resolve you have formed prove auspicious for you, like your fortunate star, and bring you triumph. You are leaving; may well-being travel with you, but first, attend to the affairs of me, your servant.