In Praise of Shah Sheikh Abu-Ishaq, an Account of My Own State, with a Quotation from Zahir Faryabi

As long as the sky is granted its turning, as long as the earth is fixed in its stillness, As long as the sun keeps scattering its gold, as long as the fresh spring keeps painting the world, As long as within the compass of heaven the seven wandering planets keep circling, As long as the universe has a foundation, as long as there are earth and water, fire and wind, may live the second Jamshid, beauty of this world and faith, the crown-giving king upon his throne, the absolute king of the world, the shadow of God's grace, Abu-Ishaq. May he be glad and triumphant in the world; may his command run like destiny itself. Saturn is the least of his doorkeepers; Jupiter, one who prays and sings his praise. In his army Mars is a mere foot-soldier, the one they call the warrior of the heavens. The glow of his cupbearer's face is the sun; Venus is his minstrel, spinning the wine-cup. Mercury is an apprentice to the scribes at his court, its head laid down upon his threshold. The ring of the moon is the horseshoe of his steed; the globe of the sky is the ball of his playing field. The Friday sermon and the coin are ennobled by his name, and a whole world lives on the bounty of his gifts. His lofty judgment practices justice; his generosity has given away whatever it has seen. Forever king of the seven climes, his gateway the refuge of the seven climes. His fortune reigns in the realm of sword and pen; his arm the champion against tyranny and cruelty. This servant, who among the servants of that court is the least of well-wishing attendants, had a longing turning in his mind: that if he ever found an opening somewhere, he might set out a hint of his condition, and lay bare the disorder of his affairs. Suddenly he saw Zahir in a dream, who said: come now, be quick and put it into verse. Some time ago I composed three or four little lines, of what suits the matter, take that copy out of my collected poems, and when the moment comes, present it as a plea. So this servant, in keeping with my master's wish, brings forward his verses: «A learned man said from the top of the pulpit: when the hidden abode is revealed, God will forgive the white beards their sins, and pass those sins onto the black beards. Then on the day of hope the black beard will find shelter under the white beard. A little red-bearded man was present, and clutched his beard when he heard this, and said: as for us, we are not even in this reckoning; in both worlds we count for nothing. This servant is that wronged red-beard, the one shut out from the king's bounty. May his kingdom last until the Day of Judgment; may the sun and moon be his companion and cupbearer.»