In Praise of Muhammad ibn Sa'd

Atabak Muhammad, the fortunate king, master of the crown and lord of the throne. A young man blessed with luck and a bright mind, young in his fortune yet old in wisdom. Great in knowledge, lofty in ambition, brave of arm and clever of heart. How fortunate the mother of the age, who raised such a son at her side. With his generous hand he outshines the sea; in his high station he rises above the stars. How the eye of fortune stays fixed on your face, chief of kings, head held high. The oyster you see brimming with pearls holds nothing worth as much as one single pearl. You are that hidden, matchless pearl, the very ornament of the royal house. Lord, keep him safe with your own gaze; guard him from the harm of the evil eye. God, make his name known across the world; honor him with the grace of obedience to you. Keep him steadfast in justice and piety; grant his wishes in this world and the next. May no unworthy enemy grieve him, and may no worry wound his heart. A heavenly tree bore fruit like you: a son who seeks renown, a father already renowned. Know that goodness is a stranger to any house whose people wish this house ill. What faith and knowledge, what justice and fairness, what a kingdom and fortune, may it last forever. God's kindnesses cannot be measured; what service can a grateful tongue ever render? God, this king who loves the poor, in whose shade the people find their ease, keep him long as a shelter over the people, and keep his heart alive by the grace of devotion. Let his tree of hope stay fruitful, his head green with life and his face bright with mercy. Do not walk the path of pretense, Sa'di; if you have sincerity, then bring it and come. You know the road, and the king is the traveler; you speak the truth, and the king listens for truth. What need is there to set the very throne of heaven beneath Qizil Arslan's feet? Do not say, set the foot of glory upon the skies; say instead, lay the face of sincerity upon the dust. In devotion press your face to the threshold, for this is the heart of the road of the righteous. If you are a servant, bow your head at this door and take the crown of lordship off your head. Before the court of the Majestic Commander, cry out like a beggar before a wealthy man. When you worship, do not wear the robe of kingship; raise your plea like a sincere pauper. Saying: my Lord, you are the wealthy one, you are the powerful one who nourishes the poor. I am no lord of lands nor any commander; I am only one of the beggars at this door. You gave me the power to do good; without you, what good could ever come from me to anyone? Pray at night with a beggar's burning heart, even if by day you play the king. The proud stand belted at your door, while at the threshold of worship you bow your head. How fine: a lord to his servants, yet to the Lord himself a servant who pays his due.