ما لِلغَواني مَنْ رَأَينَ بِرَأسِهِ

What ails the fickle beauties, when they saw upon his head the whiteness of age, that they grew weary of his union and spurned him?

Yet when a man's sparse facial hair is barely grown, they still regard him with cheerful smiles and gentle affection.

Khunayfa has turned away from you after a time of love, seeing your youthfulness and its tender branches worn and withered.

Verily, the Caliph is the best of those who tread upon the earth; by God, he purifies His religion and his own conviction.

His governance has marched forth with the most just demeanor, reaching the utmost bounds of the lands and touching those who follow him.

Thus truth displays its clearest, most luminous signs, while injustice obscures its own form and blinds its eyes.

All creation has witnessed his clemency and chastity, so the people tread precisely in the footprint of his path.

They seek his approval with sincere intent, certain that God is never pleased unless they satisfy him.

They dread his formidable power and so remain obedient, yet they harbor as much hope in him as they hold of fear.

Verily, the Caliph is a mercy bestowed by our Lord, and through him He has illuminated us and made His religion plain.

Upon Abu Ishaq lies the true obedience to his Lord, that He might grant him victory and render him aid.

A sovereign who brought down divine retribution upon the land of the Romans, utterly destroying wealth whose total its people could not count.

He annihilated their lord and shattered their armies with the thrust of lances, shaking their kingdom and their fortresses to the ground.

And the Zutt—which caliph before you ever subdued them, or received from them such total obedience?

Not until you reigned did your sword leave their blood coating both its razor edge and its flat surface.

When they were brought before your judgment—defying the very authority they once disobeyed—your flashing blades severed their noses.

Yet you granted pardon, for you have ever remained merciful, noble in action, blessed and auspicious.

And you made Babak drink the bitter cup of doom, led on by horsemen trailing their lances behind them.

The two armies clashed for a full day, and the bows were stained with the very wood from which they were carved.

Until you broke the Khurramiyya to submission, and the mountain passes of Badh recoiled from the ringing din of battle.

The surviving men of his family weep for those who perished, and Babak's unveiled women lament him in despair.

Toward Amorium he advanced at the head of a vast host that filled the mountain passes, both plain and rugged height.

He exterminated its inhabitants and fettered Batsis in iron collars, bringing low those who harbored him.

The slain were laid out in rows along every path, a stacking so dense you would mistake them for woven ramparts.

There they lie dead in the valley of al-Jun, scattered factions, while other tribes crowd the imperial prisons.

At al-Safsaf he laid bare the enemy's duplicity and the foul secrets they harbored within.

Thus the accursed one plummeted along with his star, for God neither approves of straying nor grants honor to the wicked.

You directed your cavalry straight toward the arrogant elite; they trampled them underfoot and struck them down upon meeting.

You cut off his root, so he came to you in utter submission, fearful of destruction, his heart quaking and abject.

And Mazyar, who had wrapped himself in treachery—it severed the jugular veins of his heart and his main artery.

This after he had made the high peaks his refuge and trusted in mountain strongholds fueled by his misguidance.

Believing falsely that treason would shield its adherents, until the blows of fate gave the lie to his assumptions.

He exposed him to treaty-breaking, laying bare his breast so that my Lord might humiliate and disgrace him.

You packed the mountain gorges and steep heights with fierce lions armed with lances and sharp blades.

Your noble warhorses grew accustomed to scaling his difficult stronghold, climbing its jagged mountain peaks.

Like hounds they closed in upon him, never leaving his courtyards, while the mountain summits tormented him with their guards.

Until the women of his household shared in his ruin when his sacred inner sanctums were utterly despoiled.

Then he surrendered in abjection when his defenders forsook him, and he saw his stronghold scattered in utter ignominy.

Once he was taken by force, your horses swept in to seize his visible wealth and his hidden treasures.

His hands were bound in shackles to his collarbone, bleeding while tears flooded his eyelids.

Until your whips drained the life from him, extinguishing every motion and every stillness in his frame.

Then his sinews were lashed to the head of a sturdy camel, with the rope serving as his halter and nose-ring.

This after his blasphemy had condemned Haydar, laying open and clear what he had kept hidden.

You assembled every qualified judge and questioned him directly to make his apostasy manifest and undeniable.

He confessed to open apostasy, while you sought nothing save God and desired no mere petty humiliation.

How could it be otherwise, when you have made every eloquent orator speak in praise to win the adornment of your favor?

That his praise might circulate and his memory be immortalized through the unyielding strands of your poet's robust verse.

You rewarded the one who praised you so that his poetry shone bright, and every chronicler eagerly desired to record it.

You raised him above the stars, leaving no rival in the kingdom with comparable standing or security.

You bound the crown of majesty upon him with regal dignity, making all of God's creation turn toward him in awe.