Sol 5.6

  1. O my master above all humankind, my lord,

    Through praising you, you have brought me to every height of glory.

  2. I have sent verses whose strands seem

    Carefully strung with pearls and chrysolite.

  3. I delight my gaze in written lines that seem

    Like the first beard-down upon a rosy cheek—

  4. Lines from which, if I seek to slay my enviers,

    I draw every keen, Indian-forged blade.

  5. You task me with returning an answer, though I

    Spend the night with a mind left scattered by time.

  6. Nor can the tongue of a powerless man fashion verse well—

    A frail man, pillowed on sleeplessness’s bed.

  7. Long life wrings him dry, leaving him wasted

    Against his will, caught between a slanderer and envy.

  8. So pardon me, O brother of lofty glory: my resolve has waned,

    Though once I was like a burnished, unsheathed sword.

  9. For you are a man of forbearance, pardon, and gracious favor,

    And you descend from the Prophet Muhammad—

  10. The mightiest of this world’s sons, the noblest ever to rise

    To the highest rank, without hesitation.

  11. Young, when the years of his lifetime are counted;

    Yet great—our illustrious elders follow his lead.

  12. He has won the fealty of praise, gratitude, and acclaim

    From everyone accustomed to doing noble deeds.

  13. May he ever remain the foremost ornament of his age and its people,

    Trailing glory’s train at every gathering.

Sol 5.6