O champion who, on the day of debate, grapples with the horsemen of learning, subduing them by the sheer overflow of your excellence, (1)
Should the keenest orator linger over your lofty station, he would still not grasp a tenth of a tenth of what you have attained.
What, then, can the panegyrists say in describing you, when your rank soars above poetry itself and rises higher than Sirius?
Unique in knowledge, asceticism, and piercing insight, you surpassed all people in virtue and renown.
You turned the broad daylight of ignorance into a blackened night, and the pitch-dark night of unbelief you transformed into dawn.
Upon the neck of Time you strung necklaces—works wrought from your learning, whether in verse or in prose.
On the day of proud display, indeed in the very heart of battle, you were the brave one who drove the lion from its paths by force.
Your swords were white, like your honor among men; yet when the darkness of battle’s dust grew thick, you dyed them red.
It is as though you were cast in a single, unique mold—one that dissolved, unable to be turned again for a second casting.
Thus you appear across the ages unmatched; whoever has seen your equal (2) has discovered a treasure-house of virtues.
I swear by the Qur’an—truthfully, by the surah “By Time”—that you have ennobled every era of your age.
May a copious, pouring rain give you to drink in life, (3) and may a greeting of dew—whose single palmful could encompass the sea—salute you.
May the blossoms of spring illumine your abode and raise in every quarter both flower and radiant star.

Completed—praise be to Allah and to His gracious enabling.