In His Praise As Well

You are a world of grace and generosity, lord of all masters of art; your gifts, like your merit, have no end. The long life of hope comes from your brief pen, for the garden of your kindness blooms and smiles from its weeping ink. The bounty of favor opens only through your pen; that pen is nothing less than the vein through which your goodness flows. It is clear from your grace that you are the very soul of art, for your nurturing of art rises from deep within your heart. Layer upon layer of jewels in your musk scented script, like tears from lovers' eyes on the night of separation. Your world of grace is the resting place of the soul, and wherever you step, a garden and green meadow spring up. Your radiant judgment is both shade and sun; your keen mind is both fire and sweet basil. In your grace and generosity, listen to my story, for my mind wanders lost in this affair. A share of Karamabad that is rightfully mine has for two years now lain ruined by the cruelty of fate. You, whose pen holds the very law of generosity firm, do you know why forgetfulness has crept into that pen? My grief is that this grant is being written on the bark of a poplar; what is written on a leaf is easier still to erase. Show your kindness and renew it with your signature, for that alone is my livelihood in this world.