The place welcomed the presence.

Standing, his station receives

His visitor with a masterpiece and pleasure.

Extending his palm to them, granting refuge;

We ransom him, a confusing Savior.

Do not say that he died patiently

Under the deaf spears and the loins of men,

Under the horses of the accursed Ibn Ziyād;

No, nor was he buried in graves.

Too majestic is my Master for that, and Exalted,

Like the exaltation of Christ, Jesus the Warner.

He is elevated and too mighty for

Humiliation to attain him among his party and clan.

Before him is my gray hair, and before his kin,

Exclusively for him, for every helper.

So listen, understand, be aware, and advise one another,

With what, O my brothers, my conscience reveals.

Of sciences, I melt in longing and sadness

To converse with Him by it like the blowing of the Trumpet.

Accept the advice and give thanks to a friend,

Sincere, compassionate, advising, pointing.

He scatters pearls and rubies in poetry,

Mixed with scattered pearls.

Wisdoms your brother drove to you,

A slave of a slave to Twelve Full Moons.

Your Junbulani, a descendant of Khasib,

Drinks it from the overflow of a swelling sea.

From the springs of Tasnim he is given to drink,

A nectar, chain-like (salsali), sealed with musk.