In Praise of Ali, Commander of the Faithful (Peace Be Upon Him)

Your threshold, which is itself a Mount of Revelation, here I am at last, arrived from a far road. An age has passed in which, out of longing, I have swallowed blood like patient lovers. I, the abandoned one, who bore the long cruelty of separation; I, the broken one, who endured so many pitch-black nights. Now do not keep me from your nearness; now do not cast me out from your presence. It is I, yes I, who kiss a sacred tree that puts even the lote tree of paradise to shame. It is I, yes I, who bow before a threshold that puts even Mount Sinai to shame. Thanks to God, my eyes and heart, through this grace, have become the envy of the fountain of light. At last, through this honor, the wounds of my heart, which had festered, found their balm. In this joy of mine, the heavens spoke to wisdom: O you by whom the order of all affairs is kept, Do you know whose garden this sight belongs to? Do you know whose tomb this revered place is, That you should show all this gladness and delight, all this happiness and joy? In reply it said: Be silent, you whose inner eye is blind. This has become the kingdom of one who was the pride of the days and the glory of the ages. The tomb of Ali, king of faith, whose threshold is the prayer-direction of women and men alike. He through whose grace existence stepped from the hidden chamber of nothingness into being. He who, had he not been, the heavens would still lie veiled behind the curtain of concealment. The rain-cloud sweats with shame, since its generosity was shaped from his hand. The lofty wheel of heaven grieves in seclusion, since destiny was compelled to obey his command. His high standing on the ladders of fortune said to the sky: Beware, do not grow proud, For his foot has reached a height that not even imagination has crossed. Your power, O fate, has no hindrance; nothing possible is impossible to it. It can fit the whole sky within the eye of an ant. If his forbearance turns its back on time, the thread of years and months would snap. When the light of his face shines forth, the lord of the stars, the sun, is hidden away. The fame of your justice does to mankind what the trumpet's blast does to crumbled bones. Morning and evening the breezes kiss your earth; the east and west winds keep vigil at your door. Your decree laughs at the firmness of mountains, for it gives steadiness to the ages. The guard of your justice is such that the falcon feeds grain to the sparrow and the finch. If that watchman of the realm of sacred law is set to forbid all wrongdoing, The tulip would not raise its cup in the meadow, nor would Venus strum her lute in the sky. On the day of battle, when you raise the victorious banner against the enemy in the fight, From the arrows of bold champions, from the swords of zealous warriors, On that wide and terrible plain, the path is closed even to beasts and birds. The heavens recite over the brave the verse: Your striving is rewarded. If you are aloof, what fear of the world? The noble recoils from the base. If you flee from the world, what wonder? The generous shies away from the miser. If I do not attempt your praise, O king, I am excused in this matter, For your stations are well known, and your miracles are renowned. O judge, O dispenser of justice, though I have not set my heart on this house of vanity, In this dwelling of pride and deceit my heart turned to blood, like a mourner at a wedding feast. Though all these companions are drunk, head to foot, on the wine of ignorance, Though we have raised the hive of art and kindled the candle of the months, As long as, by the decree of the world's Creator, fate gives commands and the heavens obey, May your well-wisher be nothing but triumphant; may your ill-wisher be nothing but crushed.