كرم الزمان ولم يكن بكريم — Ibrahim Riahi

Time grew generous, though it had not been generous,

And grew serene, becoming my boon companion in serenity.

And poured abundant blessings upon me,

For which my mouth and inmost heart give thanks to God.

They surpass eloquent poetry, and sometimes

Praise falls short of doing justice to something great.

And the greatest is my beholding Ibn Harazim,

And my enjoyment of bliss from his face,

And my delight in the beauties of his form,

And my bliss in the breeze of his character,

And my discovery, through his kindness, of gracious gifts,

And insights, subtleties, and understanding,

And my gaining dignity by humbling myself before his beauty,

And the honor I gain from his sandal, which is served.

He is the one whose secret's treasuries hold

What, if revealed, would make every sage doubt.

And he is the one granted insights, who thus rose

From them to their loftiest hidden secret.

And he is the one whose facial lines were made

A mirror of felicity and a cure for the sick.

And he is the one who attained his Lord's favor,

And is blameless in bestowing it on whomever he wishes.

And he is the one whose communion the Messenger permitted,

And whom he supplied with knowledge from his own presence.

And he is the one: al-Tijani placed his secret

In him, and distinguished his station with all-embracing scope.

And he is the one, and he is the one, and he is the one,

And he is the one whose inward meaning is beyond reach.

Great are the gifts he holds, toward which

Mankind's aspirations now hasten with every sound soul.

And his love hastened to their souls,

So it is nourishment for traveler and dweller.

O my master, how often I called for my master,

Until I knew you and recognized my blind guesses.

And I learned that I had been writing in the air,

And walking behind myself, with misery my boon companion.

O my refuge—your bounty is refuge enough—

And my hope when my scorching wind blazes.

Will you dispel my anguish? For they have assailed

And overwhelmed me—my whispering doubts and cares.

Will you pity my misery and give me rest?

For the choicest of God's people are the best in mercy.

Is there a rescuer for one bewildered, who has found

No helper pledged to dispel his cares?

So pity tears whose eyes have seen you,

And so lavished pearls strung together.

And inner ribs that have lodged you in their black core,

And have been scorched, and spoken through wounds.

And limbs that rushed to you, led by

A root of mighty standing, not abased.

And inner secrets whose colors faded when

They found something other than a painful yearning for you.

And a love-stricken one who, but for remembrance, would be,

With renewed longings, nothing but decayed remains.

Do not sever my hope, for I have sent it

Hastening to you, and you are the best of the generous.

And I have taken you, among humankind, as an intermediary;

And my seeking intercession through your guidance is unbroken.

And I have made my love a pledge before your bounty,

And a blameless plea for protection through your exalted rank.

And through your bounty I hoped from my Lord for that

Whose inward meaning I now do not lack.

O my support, O my goal, O my master,

O my rescuer, my hope, and my intimate friend.

You are the one my Lord chose for His secret,

And bestowed upon you bounty that embraces you fully.

So yours is felicity, for you are humankind's sovereign,

And mine is felicity in your saying, 'My servant.'

And His Messenger bestowed on you what was acknowledged

As yours by the people of God's secret, in granting you precedence.

So may your Lord's peace, whenever the east wind blows,

Enfold you with the fragrance of its sealed blend.