In Praise of the King

When they let the banner of dawn go streaming, they scattered gold from the sun across the horizons. The managers of the sky's affairs, from the direction of Khotan, sent an army marching out of the darkness of Ethiopia. The many colored sky rose up in a hundred garments, as they made the dawn's curtain out of plain silk. When the canopy of the eastern king appeared, the army of night hid its baggage in the mountains. When the rooster of dawn beat its fiery wings against the sky, they drove the raven of night homeless from its nest. When the sign of twilight glow appeared from the sky, they filled the mountainside with fresh redbud blossoms. The travelers of the heavens fled toward the western land, retreating along the roadside of the Milky Way. At that moment the mirror of dawn was wiped clean of rust, as they gilded the sun's blade and set it scattering gold. The outfitters of the sky poured a hundred thousand strings of pearls as an offering before the canopy of the fortunate king. The champions of Khotan turned their faces on the world and drew their arrows against the enemies of the king's fortune. At dawn, with the sun's flame, they thrust burning fire into the mouths of his enemies, like a candle. At that time, from sincere hearts, the angels each moment prayed for the king's fortune from the depths of their souls. The sky, the stars, and the sun made a healing balm for the eyes out of the dust of the king's steed's hooves. The beauty of the world and the faith, king of the seven climes, at whose court fortune and good luck have joined together. A king of kings whom the court of divine majesty addressed as king of all sovereigns of men and spirits. The sky bound the order of his service upon itself; it made the collar of the stars into the leash of obedience to him. For his bright mind and blessed judgment, heaven and earth made him their conquering king. Refuge of the world, from the generosity of your hand and heart they have made all people guests until the Day of Judgment. Since the first morning of eternity, the stewards of fate and destiny have pledged everlasting fortune to you. The old sky grew young and the senile age grew fresh again, when they took refuge in such a young fortune. Every secret they hinted at, of your kindness and your severity, the tongue of your pen and your spear made clear. When in eternity the fates drew the sword of wrath, they first tested it on the head of your foe. At the time when the architects of destiny, by their power, built the six directions and the seven heavens, they gave the sovereignty of the earth to your high rank, and made the army of justice the guardian of the age for you. When they built the palace of your worth on the first day, they set the crown of the twin stars as its lowest step. Atop the roof of your glory they set the ancient sky, night and day, as a watchman, like the dark keepers of gates. In the age of your justice, the tale they told of Darius and Ardavan became a mere legend on people's lips. Those who told the story of the sea and described the mine drowned in shame before the cloud of your bounty. May your seat of glory endure, for since eternity they have made it the throne of justice and the home of safety.