and it drenched the graves that lie contentedly beside his beneath the earth—a billowing cloud of pardon (1).
Blessed is the one who now rests next to his dust; for his sake even the closest neighbor is shown honor (2).
The night he was laid there, a wedding was held beneath the earth, while above it the very same spot was a funeral (3).
All the while the angels of heaven surround him every day, never tiring and never growing weary.
O earth, through him you have become like a garden of Paradise; for your guest every day is a festival.
People may tear their collars for others, yet for him the rending of one’s garment (4) is truly obligatory.
Happy is the land whose tomb now shelters him as one dead—though this “dead man” is alive and honored.
His soul has been carried to the Gardens of Eden, where houris and youthful attendants serve him.
His body lies beneath the open sky, but his spirit delights in “a seat of truth” amid Divine good-pleasure.
If the grave that encloses his body were, one day, granted a tongue that could speak (5),
you would hear it proclaim its glad tidings (6) of the finest guest ever to grace its courtyards.
He dwells in the noblest neighborhood—God’s own—and God is kinder and more merciful to His servants than all.
The seven circuits of tawaf and the saʿi, the Hijr, the Ancient House, and Zamzam all weep for him (7).