In every city his renown has spread, like musk that diffuses its fragrance through every quarter of the land.
His life-stories (1)—were I to set them in order—would journey on the tongues of travelers, outpacing the odes of poets.
Yet when the Imam of the Muslims, their shaykh and guide, passed away, my own solace was powerless to comfort those who mourned.
I beseech the Lord of the Throne to reunite us in the Garden of Firdaws, for that is the hope I cherish.
Upon him be a greeting from the Lord of the heavens (2), a salutation that shall endure for him forever without decay (3).

It is complete; the poem consists of fifty-two lines (4).

He also composed—may Allah pardon them both and envelop them in His mercy (5):

After your departure, is there any eye whose tears a healer can soothe, or any remedy for the sickness of a heart oppressed by grief?
You have gone far from us, while within our very core a fire of yearning blazes, flaring up with anguish and scorching pain (6).