أنا بين أحشاء الليالي نار — أبو طالب المأموني

Within the innermost depths of night, I am a fire;

the nights are my smoke, and the stars my sparks.

So when the dawn of open heaven dispels their darkness,

all lands and cities shall be seared by my flame.

Of me the world dreams, and of the good

I hold for it—secrets hidden between its ribs.

In every kingdom there is yearning for me,

and in every battle, a blaze calling me.

My people, no journey has borne my mount so far

but that travel might reveal who I am.

Within the heart of time, I have a hidden secret

which fate must surely draw forth.

His hands have spared the blood of noble virtues, since he became

the lifeblood of all they encompass—and he is mighty.

Muzayna forged from him a keen-edged sword

that rests nowhere but upon the heads of lions.

His counsels are gleaming sword-blades, while his speech

is a garden upon the hills, and his right hand a torrent.

The wonders of his words encircled the whole world,

as though it were an arm and they its bracelets.

Every noble virtue and height of glory were made his alone,

as though, in truth, they were walls surrounding him.

When the pathways of learning grow obscure,

his kinsmen are its guiding landmarks and its beacon.

Their resolves are swords, and the bounty of their hands

is rain clouds; their radiant faces are moons.

Among them, he crowned high command with ministerial office—

a lion visited by slender, dusky spears.

O you whose forefathers, whenever a poet praises the tribes,

are blessed by poetry itself:

jostle heaven with your shoulder—for none is seen

beside you dwelling in the constellations' mansions.

The earth is your realm, mankind your pages;

time is your servant, and glory your abode.

Noble qualities, like wine, have his deeds poured among them,

making him beloved to them—yet they suffer no intoxication.

Muhammad son of Muhammad has a hand by which

hope is kept alive and hardship put to death.