the decree of death holds sway over all created beings; this world is no abode of permanence.
I even pity my envier for the searing rancor their breasts conceal.
They behold Allah’s favor upon me—eyes in a garden while hearts burn in a fire.

Among its verses censuring the world—and the entire poem is choice and refined—are the following:
It was fashioned (1) in turmoil, yet you would have it (2) free of every stain (3) and blemish.
He who forces the days against their nature is like one who seeks a live spark of fire in water.
If you pin your hopes on the impossible, you are building those hopes on the brink of a crumbling cliff.

And among its lines about his son—after the boy’s death—he says:
I dwell among my foes while he dwells with his Lord; how vast the gulf between his neighborhood and mine!

Ibn Khallikān (4) relates that someone saw the poet in a dream in a pleasing state. When one of his companions asked, “How did you attain that?” he replied, “By virtue of this very line.” He died this year in the prison of Khizānat al-Bunūd in Cairo—may Allah Almighty have mercy on him.

Then came the year 417 AH.
On the twentieth of Muḥarram a fierce riot broke out between the Isfahsalarīyah (5) and the ʿayyārūn. The Turks rode against them beating war drums as in open combat. Many doorways of the houses where the ʿayyārūn had sought refuge were burned; a large section of al-Karkh was set ablaze, its inhabitants were plundered, and the looting spread farther still. It was a dreadful, atrocious disturbance that subsided the following day. A fine of one hundred thousand dinars was imposed on the people of al-Karkh for having stirred up turmoil and evil.

In Rabīʿ al-Ākhir of the same year, Abū ʿAbd Allāh al-Ḥusayn ibn ʿAlī al-Ṣaymarī gave testimony before the Chief Judge Ibn Abī al-Shawārib, after the judge had previously required him to recant what was reported of his Muʿtazilite leanings.

In Ramaḍān a shooting star tore across the sky with a roar like thunder. On the last day of Shawwāl hail fell the like of which had never been witnessed, and it continued until the twentieth of Dhū al-Ḥijjah. Water remained frozen throughout that period—even along the banks of the Tigris and the major canals. People endured extreme hardship: rains were late, the Tigris kept rising, crops were scant, and many of