He too composed in his praise—may blessings be upon him and may Allah be pleased with him, amen:

Today the secret of creation refuses to stay concealed,
and the tears that streak grey hair(1) insist on speaking out.

Every hidden anguish and burning pain
has now reached its limit; grief swells and tears have multiplied.

He is gone—the master who towered above every noble soul—
leaving the domain of virtues desolate and dark.

The rain-cloud of generosity has dispersed after its downpour,
and the full moon of good fortune has set before completing its course.

The ocean of knowledge, once brimming to its shore, has ebbed away,
and a pillar of lofty resolve has cracked and crumbled.

When the calamity became certain, my eyes
were dyed crimson as tears(2) streamed from my lids.

O paragon of the age, whose very qualities
left all who strove for excellence lagging behind!

You spent a life of beautiful deeds, the unique one of this nation,
defending religion and Islam with determination and peace.

Rejoice! How often you faced a contentious debater
and, with but a phrase, reduced his words to silence.

You scattered gems upon the parted locks of Time
and strung pearls upon the neck of night.

Through the merit of your night prayers, joined to the prayers of the day,
and through your generosity and beneficence, you gained rich spoils.

You reached the furthest goals of virtue before all mankind,
advancing with a stride that outpaced every vanguard.

A banner among people—a learned, teaching sage—has departed;
the courtyards of the schools now stand barren of a teacher.

The very lesson of virtue and knowledge lies erased,
wishing it could voice its grief and speak.

A youth—were the clippings of fingernails turned into pens—
still, they would seldom find today his equal to describe.(3)