Another Poem in the Same Vein

Chief of the free and noble, Shah al-Din, so generous: mines and oceans became like the palm of your hand from your giving. Your enemy is closed and heartsick with envy of your rank, like a bud; greed grows drunk on the cup of your bounty, like a narcissus. The house of Gemini, whose height has no equal, now stands like a lowly threshold beside the pavilion of your fortune. Every worry and grief left the heart of anyone who in all their life sat with you for even a moment. Foul fate drove me far from serving you with its dark dealings; may the face of this base, groveling sky turn black. Since fate flung open the door of separation from you upon me, the wheel of heaven shut its door of joy and delight in my face. A long time has passed since your kindness remembered me; truly, from grief over that, my soul tore loose from my body. I cannot reach you, and no letter reaches me from you; I know there must be some cause behind a trial like this. I know a scrap of paper is no great sacrifice for you, for your kindnesses toward me have always been constant. Either the tongue of your pen has been blocked, like my road, or your scribe's hand has broken, like the foot of your servant.