1. The staffs of India and cane are your brothers,
And measures in fairness are your aides,

2. And the heights are gardens of your glance, and praise
When its flower blows is your basil.

3. Glory laughed in your time knowledgeably
That it will destroy what your time loved.

4. O you of the Emir, your eyes have not gone blind,
Far from it, and not your eyelids,

5. But your noble deed depicted it, to make
Its status equal, and your status, in the Highest,

6. So it blushes like your sword in battling
And clears like your kindness cleared.