Ode 23: In Praise of Shah Sheikh Abu Ishaq Inju

At dawn, when from the eastern edge the blue-walled king sent his Roman army marching toward Zanzibar, the black tent of night was torn apart, and from every eastern quarter the banner of day appeared. The lovely golden-winged, silver-nested body of the sun turned the plain to silver and the mountains to gold. Like divers in this sea of silver waves, its light plunged in and scattered gleams on every side. Withdrawn from all people, secluded in a corner, I had freely chosen the quiet of solitude, drowned in the sea of wonder, caught in the whirlpool of thought, my discerning eye fixed on the shapes of the heavens, having shaken off the affairs of the world in true sincerity, keeping only to the prayer for the king of the world. I heard a soft chant from the dwellers of the sacred realm on their way; I saw an army of hidden travelers passing by, all clad in enlightened hearts like luminous spirits, all marked head to toe by purity like the spiritual mind. On the ninth green arch of heaven they were beating drums of joy: 'Here comes the victorious banner of the fortunate king!' Champion of realm and faith, sky of justice, sun of religion and knowledge, shadow of the Creator, Sheikh Abu Ishaq, lord of the world, sun of the cradle of power, king of sea and land, sultan with the might of the heavens, kings ride at his side and champions in his stirrup, lion-catchers on his right and lion-hearted men on his left. The world cannot do without him, and it bows its neck to him; he is the darling of the Creator, and a whole people hopes in him. Every treasure of fortune stored in the vault of the heavens, the treasurer of destiny has scattered over the dome of his canopy. Every image the age ever saw drawn on the pages of possibility, the painter of fate has painted onto the face of his banners. His servants conquer kingdoms, his attendants bestow them; his friends prosper, his enemies are ground into dust. Faith and world attend his banner day and night; all the world's people take shelter in his fortune, month upon month. O king of kings, the dust of your threshold, out of pride, boasts over the crown of Saturn's palace itself, your hand, scattering pearls, and your gem-showering fist are like a wind in autumn and a cloud in spring. Moon and sun are shamed by the light of your face's reflection; sea and land are put to shame by a drop of your hidden bounty. Anyone in the world who speaks without your gracious will, the moment your gaze falls on him, fate wipes him out. For the coming of your victorious, world-seizing banners a whole country longs and a whole world waits. As long as this bright full moon has its course through the sky, as long as this round vault turns above the earth, may the pillars of your glory stand flawless like the settled earth, and may the days of your life be countless like the turning of the sky.