To the one who left his summer meadow and spring pasture empty, I have offered my heart and my eyelids as a new summer range and pasture (1).

O Ahmad, the Praiseworthy—you were a beacon for guidance and an open channel to the pristine law.

For both religion and worldly life you were a light and a delight whenever the face of calamity loomed, black and forbidding (2).

We have been struck by a loss in you that no keen strategy, however strong of hand or plan, could repel.

You quit your homeland with the departure of one who journeys far, never intending—through all time—to return.

You were slow and reluctant when it came to evil, yet swift and eager in the pursuit of every good.

In forbearance you were a towering mountain with lofty peaks, and in generosity, beneficence, and knowledge a fountainhead (3).

You were a buttress of Allah’s religion when its foundations were cracking from weakness and decay.

The garden of learning, once lush and verdant, has now turned arid; everything that had blossomed there has withered away (4).

You were the gathering point of unity—your loss has scattered the ranks and brought together every kind of calamity (5).

A scholar whose breast and whose pen encompassed oceans of bounty, open-handedness, and knowledge entire (6).

His fame has travelled across the earth, eastward and westward, like the drifting spread of the fragrance of fresh sandalwood.