O you for whom my words will accept nothing but praises—
were I to extol another, it would still be you I meant.

It is only the fear of an ignoramus⦗1⦘ or a spiteful envious man,
who would scold and let the contents of his heart pour out of his own mouth,
that has driven me to address you solely with eulogies,
until it seems I converse with you in no other way.

Should a malicious soul intrude, I will answer him with the Qur’ānic words,
“So this is the one about whom you reproached me.” (12:32)

Completed.⦗2⦘

Another of his poems, speaking of the abasement of the opponents—may Allah sanctify him:

Though they fawned upon him while he was in prison,
seeking his favor and showing softness and feigned affection,

it is no wonder that his adversaries bowed to his power,
no surprise that his enemies trembled at the reach of his assault;

for the nature of a finely tempered, Indian-forged sword
is that it inspires both fear and hope—whether sheathed or drawn.

Another of his poems in his praise—may Allah have mercy on him:

O you whose noble qualities outshine all others,
whose bounties overflow like a swelling flood⦗3⦘;

whose clouds of generosity
rain upon hopes beyond all hopes;

whose lofty ambition never ceases
to return victorious with every aim achieved;

whose steadfast resolves do not slacken
as they advance toward the highest degrees of honor.