In Praise of Atabak Muzaffar al-Din Saljuqshah

Look at that face whose beauty outshines the moon, at the trap of those curls and the bait of that dark mole. I never heard of a cypress that could wear a robe, nor did I ever see the sun put on a cap. If a face like this were raised up on Judgment Day, the sinner would offer a thousand excuses for his sin. You have heard how Joseph was trapped in a well; here is a Joseph who carries the well itself in his dimpled chin. He looks at his friends the way a king looks proudly over his troops. With every step that true cypress takes, it is a pity if we do not sweep the road with our own eyes. I can bear no more patience against that face: how long can a straw carry the weight of a mountain? You who sleep and cannot hear the sigh of the wakeful heart, do not blame it; a sigh belongs to a heart in pain. Sadi, tell no more tales of drunkenness and lovers' cries; such talk is a flaw in the house of prayer. Wash your notebook clean of the poems you have written, and say nothing more but prayers for the fortune of Saljuqshah. Lord, grant him long life so that, with wrath and kindness, he may repay the ill-wisher and reward the well-wisher. And let his servant drive, like a nail into the enemy's throat, the rope that holds up the pavilion of his court.