أنا بين أحشاء الليالي نار

I am a fire hidden deep within the entrails of the nights … smoke is my cloak, and the glittering stars are my sparks.

Once the dawn of the open space sweeps away its darkness … regions and great cities alike are set ablaze by my presence.

The world dreams of me, and of the hidden goodness … locked deep within the sanctuary of its ribs as a secret.

In every single kingdom there is a longing for me … and in every battlefield burns the fierce heat of my approach.

O people, no journey of mine ever strayed far … except to ensure that my travels ultimately brought forth my true revelation.

Deep inside the conscience of Time rests a hidden secret … which the decrees of Destiny are bound to draw forth.

His hands safeguard the blood of noble character, ever since he became … a stern master whose grasp spills the blood of all he commands.

His commissioned blade has been tempered to find its final rest … only upon the towering crests of the proud.

His judgments flash like white blades, his conversation is a meadow of spring … and his right hand flows like a surging river.

The brilliant wonders of his speech have embraced the entire world … making it look like a forearm adorned with a jeweled bracelet.

All noble virtues and lofty heights have chosen him exclusively … wrapping around him as if they were true protective ramparts.

When the pathways of the sciences grew tangled and obscure … the masters of knowledge stood as guiding banners and towering lighthouses.

Their firm resolves are sharp swords, their open palms are rain clouds … and their radiant faces shine like bright moons.

The crown of leadership fused with the vizierate rests among them … like a lion whose thicket is made of slender, leveled spears.

O you whose praises poets rush to write … verses bow in profound submission before the letter ba of your name.

So jostle the heavens with your shoulder, for no one else … is seen to hold a neighbor's right among the constellations.

The earth is your kingdom, all mankind your young pages … time itself your servant, and supreme glory your permanent home.

His innate dispositions are like bubbling wine, pure in their deeds … sparkling with effervescence yet untouched by any morning after-effect.

To Muhammad ibn Muhammad belongs a hand through which … hope is revived and desperate hardship is struck dead.