English
In His Praise
You are the sun of the kingdom; until the very end of time, may eclipse and decline never lay a hand on you.
Wise pole of the faith, the sun and moon kiss the dust at your feet to gain more beauty and grace.
Because your nature is the bridal chamber where beauty shows itself, they have set up the whole stage of imagination and fancy.
Even Rostam, son of Zal, would rise trembling from the earth like a willow branch if he were shown your awe.
Every morning the sun begins its day at your threshold, taking it as an omen of good fortune.
The dread of you turns a sharpened spear into pure water pouring down the throats of your enemies.
When your sword strikes an ill-wisher, blossoms of the Judas tree bloom on his neck as blood springs up like new grass.
If the crescent moon could reach the hoof of your horse, it would boast of it before the sun itself.
When the Simorgh of your ambition spreads its wings, it covers all of existence in a single sweep.
Gold is always battered and pale-faced, because your generosity holds all wealth in such contempt.
Death draws its head into its chest like a turtle wherever your spear lifts its neck to strike.
Your mace shattered the color of your foe's face, just as a coin's stamped face is broken and worn.
The heavens sought to reach the level of your worth; reason said, better not to chase the impossible.
Your ill-wisher tastes nothing but his own blood, if indeed he wants something lawful to consume.
Your gem-scattering hand, you would say, was created in eternity itself to give, to be generous, to bestow.
From leagues away they come to meet you: sins drawn by your pardon, requests drawn by your bounty.
Envy of your kindness made the morning breeze sick; the fragrance of your character perfumed the north wind.
How many branches of fortune the heavens uproot before time can raise up a single sapling like you.
Since my face found its bond with the dust of your threshold, I have counted this bond as the true calendar of my life.
In the boundless field of your praise, though your servant found ample room to pray,
he kept it brief and light in this way, so that weariness would never trouble your heart.
The hand of speech falls short of the hem of your praise; why should I stretch out idle chatter in vain?
In your presence I have offered these small crumbs of words, not to show off, but only out of obedience.
Now the favor of your kind regard is needed, both for this writing and for my present state.
Until the last day, Lord, keep this perfection devoted to such fortune and splendor.
May there be a reflection of your flourishing glory in the freshness that endures through every month and year.