In Praise of Sultan Uways Jalayir

Cupbearer, bring the wine and fill the cup to honor the feast; pour it, for only wine can do justice to this day. The feast has shown its face and come again; joyful is the reunion with the beloved, and sweet is the morning of the feast. It has arrived in splendor and set the ground for joy once more; a hundred thousand of God's mercies upon the custom of the feast. Drink wine at the banquet of the king of the world, then with the ear of your soul hear the toast: long live the feast. The feast has come and granted a whole world its wish through wine; may the world always bend to the will and desire of the feast. The blessed feast has turned its face toward those who watch, and shown the crescent cup again to those who drink. Better that on the day of the feast we take refuge in wine, and settle the account of past pleasures with morning drink. Let us find a private corner with the old wine seller, and leave the monastery to the sheikhs for a while. Let us take the feast's due from the sound of flute and reed, and win our heart's desire from harp and lute. Whatever weariness Ramadan has left in our bodies, let us cure it with a cup of clear wine. Since our days are sweet through the king's good fortune, let us pray for the king of west and east. Sultan Uways, ruler of the world, triumphant king, the sun that spreads justice, the Jamshid of the age. The commander whose slave is even the emperor of the heavens; across land and sea the realm of kingship bears his name. The state of all the world's people, the livelihood of man and woman, stands upon his all embracing justice and his common bounty. The face of the earth, from the blazing sun of disasters, rests in the shelter of his pen and his sword. The disk of the festival crescent that all the world admires is but the horseshoe of his proud, graceful steed. The world has bowed its neck in obedience to his command; the turning heavens and the tamed stars are under his rule. O aged wheel of heaven, follower of your young fortune, the people of the world rest easy in your time. Before the universe and space were created, and before this golden vault of the sky was raised, before the foundation of this vast, arched dome was laid, and the carpet of the earth spread out within it, for the sake of the victory of faith and the order of the realm, your being was chosen out of the whole world. A kingship of justice and fairness like your rule and judgment, no one has ever seen, no one has ever heard of. May your fortune and rank increase forever, for by your good fortune the people of the world have found peace. Your threshold is the resting place of triumph and victory; it is the summary of the daybook of your era's fortune. O you whose majesty the sky leads by the bridle, and whose palace of fortune the sun serves as a slave, before the stars and the elements existed, the treasurer of destiny had laid up the treasure of good fortune for you. The architect of kingdom and nation and the key to fortune is your subtle thought and your problem solving mind. Each day the sun falls upon your threshold, hoping that at dawn it may glimpse your face. I close my words with the verse of others, because praying for you is an obligation upon all people. «As long as there is fortune, may your fortune endure; as far as your wish reaches, may the world bend to your will.»