Death was the bridal escort of his life’s wedding, (1)
and souls, together with tears, were cast about like scattered petals.
If he has been separated from family and neighbors, (2)
he has drawn near as a neighbor to the Lord of Majesty.
Should his journey have been away from the house of transience,
then in the Abode of Everlasting Life he already owns fine dwellings. (3)
If he was driven from the lofty heights of his homeland, (4)
he has found abiding rest in the immortal gardens.
He was but a rain-laden cloud of knowledge,
whose torrential drops refreshed every land it reached.
Like a beneficent shower whose clouds depart after a steady drizzle,
yet enduring traces remain in its wake.
He was a towering mountain of learning—
a single pebble of it would outweigh an entire qintar. (5)
He was an ocean of generosity; his open palm
sent forth waves of bounty that surged without cease.
He was a gentle, ceaseless rain of kindness, (6)
whose gifts poured abundantly upon the modest and the needy.
He was the full moon at the height of its perfection;
no night of waning ever dimmed its brilliance.
He was the very best of Muhammad’s community in his age;
the passing eras have never produced his like.
A sage, an ocean, of noble character and reverent piety—
within him seas of generosity and excellence swelled.
How lofty are the ranks of praise reserved for Ahmad;
minds shrink from grasping their vast expanse. (7)