1. Imagination roamed freely, visiting the beloved's abode,
While dawn wiped away the forehead of daylight.

2. So I raised up my fire for a guest who came wandering,
Seeking its warmth out of a fleeting illusion.

3. Nightfall mounted it, far better than any steed,
And sped along, dearer than any rider.

4. There it halted, where my tears are a watering place
That slakes its thirst, and my ardour, a burning fire.

5. It drank its fill, till I quenched its every burning thirst
With my eyelids’ watering – like sparks from flintstone.

6. Passion doffed a robe of sorrow it had worn,
Baring griefs that parched it like a cup drained bare.

7. My ribs writhe in fires of anguish for a glance
From lightning’s gleam or scent of sweet basil.

8. Night has poured the dew of its gown,
And the tears’ downpour flows over my breast.

9. The moon dons darkness like a patch-worked cloak,
Having cinched its waist with a starry belt.

10. There behind the curtains of gloom a wavering light
Now meets you on the right, and now upon the left,

11. No faintly flickering Najdi lightning-flash
But his look of scorn extinguishes its light.

12. Watchful, studying the winds’ messengers at nightfall,
The sky’s burdens, and its lights and shadows.

13. A cloud’s trailing tail wore a gown of ambergris,
While the lightning’s gleam kissed it with a flash of fire.

14. The shadows of birds fluttered wildly there,
And the currents were stirred to tumultuous flow.

15. The slender branch bowed low, supple and swaying,
As the tender blossoms kissed it with their smiles.

16. Dawn bedecked it, while the clouds like shreds of amber,
And the lightning like a blade’s quick glance of fire,

17. And the wind assailing the hillsides with squalls,
Toying, kissing the blossoms’ faces.

18. There the tree-top pulpits where the flocks
Preach – songbirds eloquently singing.

19. Those horsemen who all night have shunned their beds,
Perhaps journeying beyond the moon’s domains,

20. Whose fire in the dark smoulders, then flames alight,
And sparks fly up from their kindling flashes.

21. I saw in their figures and their movements
The crests of high waves and seas bursting their shores.

22. Each of them modest, wrapped in his cloak,
Noble, wearing the mantle of dignity.

23. Clad by renown in a garment hemmed
With motifs like bracelets linked together.

24. Feeder of the lofty-aspiring; reviver of generosity;
Guardian of truth, and of safekeeping troth.

25. Who shakes off all fetters like some far-roaming beast,
Spreading his free wings, sharp-taloned.

26. His flowing robes gathered up with sweet basil,
His languid eyes lined with brightness of youth.

27. He casts his high-aiming hopes, and they fold back
With tips bloodied in triumph and claws dyed red.

28. And at every distant goal he reaches,
His courage shines, bare and well-burnished.

29. He scorns sharp swords, almost, and simply walks
Erect like a straight-flying, deadly spear.

30. Following the guide of instinct on the smooth flat land,
While night wraps herself in a black fleece.

31. Each darkened form – its glance gives you light,
Its ardour’s flame guiding you like a beacon.

32. He who cloaks himself in the gown of glory doffs it
To reveal a shooting star in a dusty sky.

33. Decline has wrapped it in the garb of shadows,
While the darkness hides it like the new moon’s curve.

34. What keen observer there, listening intently
With ears wide-open and senses fully aware!

35. He steps cautiously, pauses, gathers himself up,
Swoops down, swerving with a bracelet’s twist,

36. Tautening his bowstring, he oozes honey, halting,
Almost slipping from the hands of Destiny.

37. Hesitating, fear of havoc hurls him back and forth
Like a ball tossed from the palms of desert plains.

38. What light and nimble flier has sped away,
Then stumbled by one fleeter than he!

39. Each short-striding peahen gait, undulating,
Dragging her robe’s train like a swaying pendant;

40. Red-beaked, she fancies she has fed
On sweet nectar from a brimming cup;

41. No hand can grasp her, fearing the desolation
Of some dark night or day of bitter woe.

42. Had she sought protection in the sanctuary
Of my father Yahya, he would have sheltered her.

43. A sanctuary – if the hunted takes cover there,
He fears no injustice from any neighbour.

44. The winds halt at its gate in awe,
And the surging sea of soldiers falls quiet.

45. There the hunted gazelles of Naqa feel secure
In their lairs from the snarling jackals.

46. Destiny effected its purpose as though
Its hands held the reins of Fate.

47. Time yielded to its command, as though
Time hearkened to it for instruction.

48. It adorned leadership with youthful grace,
As the light of day adorns the gown of gloom.

49. At a place where it cinched itself with a choker
Of teardrop pearls and bangles for its wrist,

50. Munificence fills to overflowing the hands
Of paupers and the eyes of all who visit.

51. Dispensing like the full moon or a pouring rain cloud
Between the well-guarded moon and clouds with trailing rain.

52. The bosom-friend, remembering it, breathes freely, as though
Scenting the fragrance of a perfumed garden.

53. In its eloquence and pleasing countenance,
Delighting hearing and sight.

54. Racing the winds in liberality – no contrary
Winds could outstrip it on the racecourse.

55. It grew chaste, tightening its belt of chastity,
For chastity is the mark of free men.

56. Wakeful, intelligent, sound in judgement, noble in aim,
Its fire and beacon suffice you.

57. It wore humility despite its majesty, and rose
To heights loftier than the spire of a minaret.

58. Leadership offered it supreme command, to fill
The eyes of beholders with joyful wonder.

59. The reins of that splendid state are held
By the hand of that intrepid horseman.

60. A hero whose orbit encompasses the spheres,
Seized by the outstretched hand of Destiny;

61. In his grip the taut bowstring of smooth harir,
And the white sharp sword of Indian steel.

62. His right hand on the day of battle, his left -
However much fire and storm he desires!

63. The sun is his wine, the steeds his fair maidens,
The air his goblet, the swords his servers;

64. The horses stumble over the spear-shafts’ thorns
And wade stained in the deep blood;

65. The flashing blades bend over the corpses
As though twisted cords upon his buttons.

66. The dried blood fractures the sun’s flashing blades
As though it were rust on golden coins.

67. The sword kept company with triumph, joined together
Like a bracelet on an outstretched wrist.

68. If it gave him a hint one day, he would flare up
In vengeance – sleeping not, forgetting no blood-claim.

69. He passed by, and a shiver of pride took hold of him,
Laughter of delight beneath his mail coat.

70. Many yellow-handed, craven in their wishes,
Clad in diverse borrowed plumes.

71. Night has covered them with its dark mantle,
And they are alone with the vacancies of their thoughts.

72. The days cried out to him, raising their voices,
As though calling to him from behind a wall:

73. “Abandon every notion of repose or ease,
And seek the bounty destined for Ibrahim!”

74. “Settle down where your abode is blessed
By auspicious days, or favourable times.”

75. Smiles blossom on the cheeks of hillsides,
And meadows are carpeted with greenery.

76. From a band who bloodied the gleaming swords
And the idolators’ faces on the day of trial;

77. Before whom the tyrant's soul quakes in awe
And the rebel, powerless, is humiliated;

78. Whom the world nurtures for its preservation,
And religion nurtures as its defenders;

79. In whose land the hands of the noble have built
The highest minaret in their proudest home;

80. Every shower of generosity, each ample-giving raincloud
That pours down in the fray, wildly courageous;

81. Who rush into the fray ranked like the waves
Of a raging sea with seething, frothing crests.

82. How many fettered they have freed of bonds,
Of poverty and the shackles of captivity!

83. The robe of glory they wear is embroidered
With endless praise that does not fade or tatter.

84. Had they attained eternity in the fame they enjoy,
No bond of lifespan could have held them.

85. From the creator of wonders I bring you rhyming verse
Whose ecstasy has stirred the deepest soul;

86. They came to you extolling Abu Bakr,
Bearing, like virgins, faultless charms.

87. So pour forth freely your eulogies, for the branches
Of these lines have blossomed with wild camomile.

88. They have stirred the hearts of listeners with wisdom
That almost stirred the pages of the stars.

89. They wiped away the heavy sleep from the riders’ eyes
And startled them with joy upon their carpets.

90. They saw you as an equal, so they chose you
Over all others, beyond the farthest lands.

91. Dawn for their garden with bright morning light
That makes the flowers laugh with delight.

92. And to her surrendered Abu Yahya his rule,
Like the nights' starry beauty at daybreak.

93. Dedicate to her your swordarm, for the sword is held
By the horseman who wields it, and the arrow by the archer

94. Intercede for the dwellers of this land, you who offer
Praise for the courtyards and answers to their prayers.