In Praise of Nur al-Din ibn Sayyad

While the gazelles still roam free in the valley, beware, son of the hunter, that the prey does not slip past you. Know that ahead of every person lies a desert, and one who crosses the wilderness needs provisions for the road. You who have inherited the estates of those who passed away: can a sound mind ever feel safe with such fleeting things? This world and its glitter are like a wind that blows past hills and mountains and is gone. For the robe of life will surely be stripped away, and then there is no difference between fine brocade and coarse felt. The child of Adam has no standing before God except a spacious dwelling waiting for those who seek Him. Happy is the one who gathered the world's wealth and then spread it out in the service of good, neither greedy nor oppressive. Just as you are certain that time is running out, be certain that you will be gathered for a promised day. Often a single soul, by its own goodness, reaches heights that the praises of many worshippers cannot attain. The pilgrim caravan crosses the wilderness out of longing, yet true piety is the finest of acts and devotions. Give freely, smile, be humble, forgive mistakes, help your friend, and quench the thirsty one's parched throat. Let no envious eyes fixed on you cause you harm; even foxes hope for the lions' leftovers. Can you ever repay the full measure of His grace? Thanks fall short of the blessings He so plainly bestows. If, my son, you truly draw benefit from the truth, this is the very path of the noble and the great. I knocked at your door while good fortune called out to me, and I set out toward a sweet spring for those who come to drink. Do not blame me for the counsel it holds; giving advice is my habit and my nature. I knocked at your door while good fortune called out to me, and I set out toward a sweet spring for those who come to drink. I sang your name until even the walls, from sheer joy, nearly danced like camels swaying to the driver's song. O fortune that reunited my scattered self through his kindness, you brought me to my hope, in spite of those who envy me. O most fortunate of people, my feet never walked toward you except that God intended my happiness. I chose you above all other people, for the truly great are never like the common lot. Stay, O cloud of Persia's generosity, spread wide, and pour your bounty on townsman and nomad alike. I wish only good for Shiraz, where you have settled; O blessing of God, remain there and grow ever greater. May you always live in the world's ease and its blessings, as long as a garden sways and its songbird sings. The poem is complete; may God keep whoever wishes you ill alive only as long as a sesame seed lasts in a blacksmith's forge.