Marvel at a grave that has taken in a swelling ocean—its waves hurling up peaks of excellence, nobility, and honor.

A mere human, yet he promised riches to all who reached him; an ease that gladdened the heart of every afflicted, self-denying soul.

Through him the land of Syria felt secure against every false, blustering, wavering heretic.

If the Maidens of the Bier—the stars of the Great Bear—could have seen the day a coffin bore a departed saint to his rest,

they would have carried his bier themselves and set it above al-Simāk and atop Farq (1) al-Farqad.

Dead is the man who combined every branch of knowledge with God-fearing piety, with genuine virtue and flawless scrupulousness.

He was the Shaykh of humankind, the devout champion of Muhammad’s religion, the adornment of Ahmad’s noble madhhab.

I bade my very heart farewell the day his death notice arrived; (2) so either hold back, O my eyes, or hasten to my aid with tears.

May unceasing showers water the precincts of the tomb that now encloses a body endowed with noble character and gracious affection.

O you who will convey to the reproachers the excess of my longing, (3) my turmoil on the day of separation and my sleepless nights—

after your loss, no calamity remains in all of time that can pierce the vital parts with the pain of parting and yet not kill.

[ق 157] You scattered the ranks of all the heretical unbelievers, and you reunited the once-dispersed company of the God-fearing.

O you whose words shine radiant white, while the face of every other polemicist is left darkened;

guardian of Islam against its foes, the deadly arrow loosed at every hypocritical heretic;

peerless one of this world—through your knowledge every monotheist within Islam gains distinction.