English
In Praise of the Same Patron
A charming breeze blew in and carried the scent of life; it brought the garden news of the coming parade of flowers.
The season of Nowruz arrived, and the blessing of its coming brought a sign of joy to every heart.
The blossom laughed open again, and the grace of its laughter brought delight to the grieving hearts of lovers.
The breeze grew tired and weak and nearly collapsed, so heavy was the load of garden flowers it carried.
The nightingale, praising the face of the tulip and the rose, brought a thousand songs and melodies into its story.
I am the servant of the good fortune of one who sits at the edge of the meadow and reaches out for what he wishes.
At dawn, when the east wind, for the beauties of spring, brought a canopy of clouds over the field of grass,
what dew it scattered on the violet's curls, what tender water it poured on the face of the Judas tree!
From longing, the frenzied nightingale said to the rose: come, come, for your absence has nearly killed me.
The blossom sent word to the morning breeze: rise, come, for without you I can hardly draw a breath.
The rose became king of all flowers in the garden only when it found its way to the court of the fortunate sultan.
The beauty of this world and the faith, whose radiant judgment brought defeat upon the moon and sun of the sky,
Time itself, though old, grew young again, because it took refuge with such youthful fortune.
The lily is set free of blame for this reason: it spoke the name of servitude to the king upon its tongue.
The doors of safety and prosperity opened to everyone who turned his face toward this fortunate threshold.
The sun embraced the whole world because it took shelter beneath the shade of the master's parasol.
Refuge of the world, your justice brought the people of the earth a warrant of safety from the cruelty of misfortune.
Your blessed pen, scattering pearls and perfume, brought the beggars news of a royal treasure.
Your hand filled the lap of greed and need with pearls, when your generosity welcomed hope as its guest.
You are the very sign of miracle and fortune: consider, whoever imagines even a hair's breadth against your will,
Fate has drawn its blade from the sheath, aiming for his head, and Destiny has fitted an arrow to the bow to kill him.
Your enemy sought crown and throne from the heavens; the age, in pursuit of him, brought the gallows and the rope.
Whoever rebelled against you, the turning sky suddenly dragged him headlong to your court.
The world had been emptied of manliness and humanity; the loftiness of your spirit restored that custom to the world.
Live forever, just as you desire, for the age has brought you the glad news of everlasting fortune.