1. O son of the Imams, a praise from a praiser
Who called your call over a distant extent

2. My hope brings me close to you with the intention
O you whom my hand holds onto the tail of his hope

3. I hope for your call with laziness, and perhaps
The alive got the luck of the very low valley

4. Alas, if I had a reason to
That sanctuary, so I would be the first reciter

5. And so I would see my face rubbed in the soil
Like musk scattered in the separated places

6. And I had sent with it a poem whose words
Were like pearls when it met the threaded wire

7. And I made it on Judgement Day my provision
So witness with it before the son of your uncle tomorrow