يهن الجزيرة منك أي حسام — أبو زيد الفازازي

May the Peninsula be blessed with you—what a sword

For defending the law of Islam!

And upon its neck, from you, in peace and in battle,

Are two strands: one of generosity and one of daring.

Two qualities no commander but you possessed:

The rain cloud's bounty and the lion's fierce assault.

Among commanders you became the pupil of the eye,

And a Khatti spear's point and a sword's edge.

Our lord, the Imam, judged you the worthiest of them

To lead the banners and the eminent men.

So he clothed you in an honorary robe of office,

Beyond appraisal and prices.

Through you he guarded the distant frontier, before which

The factions of the Cross pursued every ambition.

So you plunged between spearheads and sword blades,

Until you cleared every throng to reach it.

You became an arrow in the throats of their frontier forts,

With the command as bow and the Imam as archer.

And you unleashed it like a torrent across their grounds,

And like fire beneath the wind, over kindling—

Of every valiant man whom battle's hand had seasoned,

So you saw an elder's judgment at a young man's age.

He meets spearheads unarmored and drives them back,

Radiant of cheek, like a keen-cutting sword.

And one who trains his warriors not to sleep

Until he pillows their heads upon heads.

And a slayer of his peers, who never moved

His feet except toward the charge.

Through them the enemy's time is all darkness:

Two nights—a night of gloom and a night of battle-dust.

The foes were food for the warriors; you merely

Fed the forest's lions on livestock.

Through them you filled their eyes and hearts

With twin terrors, in waking hours and dreams.

So the Romans have cast their reins to you,

A yielding through Islam or surrender.

And they knew for certain that annihilation would engulf them

At your hands, unless they withdrew in peace.

So they armored themselves in flight's garment, humiliated;

Then flood the farthest passes of al-Sham with them.

On the day of swordplay you submitted their case to the blades,

And it was they that dealt unjustly with the judges.

You drove them back, with death barring their retreat,

Against their will, upon their bleeding heels.

And you assailed Alfonso like one who relies,

In his undertaking, on the One, the Ever-Sustaining.

Wondrous triumph is his way; no opinion

Of his own is counted as a ruling among rulings.

He spent the night's darkness awake, freely offering himself

To guard the eyes of sleepers.

He shared with humankind the duties of their righteousness,

With the added distinction of spear and sword.

You left nothing but pillaged wastelands,

And widows bending tenderly over orphans.

O son of mighty chiefs, for whom

The virtues of nobility attested to intertwined kinship!

They rushed to the cry for help as though unheeding,

Yet in death's presence they are men of sound judgment.

They are themselves, yet this man is Mus'ab

On the day of battle, and they are the sons of al-Awwam.

In combat they debate with tongues

Of gleaming swords, immune to refutation.

And devastation that leaves the foes' familiar features

Utterly unrecognizable and obscure.

God bless you! You have been endowed with discernment

Whose intuition dispenses with questioning.

You have laid out for those who follow you a path

That no one among the peoples ever established.

The Muslims had long been without its like,

And you restored it in these days.

Riders carried it from you like fragrant breezes,

Casting it across the horizons without end.

You put your sword to work, striving and fighting for the faith,

To part souls from bodies.

So today the foreign unbelievers' minds are blunted,

By terror of you, rife with fearful imaginings.

And terror has wrapped their leader's head,

After prolonged arrogance and insolence.

Whenever he departs, he is the most ill-fated traveler;

Whenever he stays, he stays in the worst place.

It made him arrogant that his banners attracted

The eyes of those who worship idols.

So he advanced upon faith and devotions with

A massed host of unbelief and sins.

Conceit made him appear an Asim, though his rank

Was below Bistam, though astride a bridled mount.

In his ignorance he led the Cross, seeking victory,

Though victory is reserved for Islam.

He escaped—but what escape is that of a vast army's commander,

Galloping away on a swift mare with a bridle?

And you left the remnants death had spared of his troops

Facing Hell, shrinking back in dread.

These are a caliph's conquests, bearing witness for him

To good fortune in unbinding and binding.

On the paths of his good fortune you have left

The sword of guidance consecrated, even in unhallowed ground,

Weeping yet smiling at the same time—

The marvel is in a smiling weeper.

And you filled your petitioners' hands with gifts,

As though they were a garden's bloom after rain clouds.

You divided your time—its night and its day—

In devotions that come after noble fasting.

You planted upon necks every benefaction

That praises you with the tongues of pens.

You strung virtues upon the thread of glory,

That bewildered the insight of the poets.

We praise you through our condition and our speech,

And our condition speaks without words.

How many who complained of fear and want were saved

By your two hands from fear and destitution!

And one who hoped for a share, yet did not obtain it,

Your bounty left able to distribute shares himself.

O brother of rain, son of rain, and father of rain!

Thus the generous man is the offspring of generous men.

You quenched my hopes when they were thirsty,

With the seas of your kindness to me, while they were parched.

You granted me favors whose thanks I began to offer,

But inability bound me from completing them.

A noble man is like a glass cup: whatever you place within it,

You see its interior through the cup's outer surface.

May you ever remain secure in leadership, striving

Between obedience to the Creator and to the Imam.