His companions have been parted from a comrade who never failed to honor the bonds of friendship, even when the friend himself betrayed them. (1)
He completed his appointed term while Allah was pleased with his deeds; and for whatever Allah decrees, all praise is His.
The very earth of his grave guides the visitor to him, exhaling a perfume whose like no one can match.
Do not think that the fragrance you detect is merely the scent of burial spices; it is the sweet aroma of his good repute and lofty renown.
To the people of knowledge he was a diadem set with gems, protecting them from every falsifier whose malice they feared.
When tested he proved to be nothing but pure gold; the discerning critic instantly recognized his true worth.
He spoke the truth—and truth, though inherently sweet, tastes bitter; for that reason people loathed to contradict him. (2)
In championing the truth he never heeded the blame of any blamer, nor did he fear the rage of a powerful man whose fury grew intense. (3)
He was a sword: the hand of noble valor would draw it forth, and the sheath would return it, just as it shelters its blade.
Neither the world nor its glitter—which beguiles those whom time has not taught sound judgment—ever distracted him.
Assemblies have lost their adornment through his absence, and the longing for his copious learning has not yet departed.
Pens, after their ink was spent, were stained with blood for him, its tide overflowing the parchment.
Heavy indeed is the burden upon the ages that the earth now hides such a verifying scholar; alas for a razor-sharp blade whose edge has been dulled. (4)
He was an Imam whose light guided others, an ocean of beneficence whose waves have now run dry.
I had hoped to see him and to meet—but who can repel the decree of Allah?