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English translation

O Sanai, run around Rizwan (paradise), In it, seek the praise of the Sultan. King Bahramshah Mas'ud, that one Who rightfully is the king of the world. O Sanai, take on a little radiance, Become acquainted with the praise of the king. For whoever speaks a word in his praise, Makes his mouth like a pearl-filled shell. If his name passes by the palate, The mouth becomes exactly full of gold like a rose. If someone resides at his door, The Universal Intellect greets him. In the soul that speaks his praise, The heart of that soul smells the rose of eternity. Like a rose, when you bring his name from his generosity, Speech becomes bits of gold in the mouth. Like a hoopoe, I make the earth full of kisses (I kiss the ground), So that the bird may take me from hypocrisy. The friend does not hold the rose for free, For it holds gold and silver in its mouth. Like a rose, he has a fresh face and a pleasant scent, Look at his back and front, it is all face. For the sake of the king's justice, the branch of the meadow, The rose is the turban and the sky is the shirt. For the sake of the kingdom, the sky is in management, The moon is the decree and the sun is the mind. Upon his bright thought is eternally, All the hidden things of the sky like the sun. The sky gives dignity to his foundation, The religious law gives instruction to his opinion. He has made equal by his effort and majesty, The page of the sword and the page of paper. His determination and resolution are the armor for the kingdom, The secret is bright before him like the day. Because the great just Sultan, When he joined the kingdom and religion together, From that, he made the spear of the tongue thin, And darkened the eye of the life of the enemies. If he sends his letter to Rome, You will not see a single person of bad faith in Rome. His generosity makes the sky a beggar, His glory makes the owl a huma (auspicious bird). His kingdom is the painter of justice and certainty, His pen is the holder of the pen of meaning and religion. The sword in the hand of the king of the world, Is both the color of the sky and the command of the angel. The secret is like the manifest near him, From that far-seeing, precise heart. Since wisdom has a hundred thousand kinds of opinions of him, Like the soul, his place is in the two worlds. Like Ali, he is both brave and a scholar, Not like Hajjaj, a rebel and oppressor. Consider his opinion like a piercing meteor, Consider his face as the board of virtues. His appearance and inner self are subtle and novel, His form and character are elegant and elevated. Every king who has status over the moon, Is the servant of the dust of the king's threshold. His kingdom is the fetter on the foot of his enemy, His pen is the assistant to his body. All his eyes are towards the faces of the deprived, All his ears are towards the oppressed. If our king engages in the joy of hunting, His determination binds the foot of the onager. His enemy set his heart on a cowardly heart, He suffers the sorrow of the heart for free, without a price. If the form of his terror sets an ambush, It makes the enemy from the sky into the earth. Those people who in the house of sorrows, Had remained without head and provision. The abasement and exile and insult of the sky, They were enduring from the treachery of the sky. When they joined this court, They escaped from strangeness, deception, and sorrow. For the sake of power, he tied a portion of the harvest, On the collar of the day, the skirt of the sky. His night, although it was sorrowful, From following the day, was a fetter. The Khusraw of the East is King Bahram, To whom the fierce kingdom is tame. When the morning of his kingdom dawned from the East, It saw nothing but stability and eternity from the East. In the face of the Khusraw of the wise, It laughed without lips and teeth. The new moon was the face of his joy, The sky laughed from that at his face. The morning and moon are increasing for this reason, His kingdom is lasting from these two faces. Not only is he shining like the sun, The horseshoe of his horse is pearl-scattering like the moon. His opinion is like the world-adorning religion, His illusion is like the sky-traversing moon. His determination is swift-moving like destiny, His prudence is more far-seeing than Zarqa (blue-eyed woman of Yamama). Before his justice among the creation of the world, Oppression has become the justice of Anushirvan. His body is like the sky-traversing moon, His soul is like Jupiter with auspicious opinion. He is the elevator of the fallen, He is the taskmaster of the servants. For the sake of the speech and action of the base and the elegant, His ear and eye have become like the noble intellect. The adversary became blind when wisdom looked, The kingdom laughed when the pen wept. The base whom time took as abased, The sword of the Sultan wept blood upon him. Such is the generosity of the sword upon the enemy, Upon the friend, what is less of the king's grace from it? Whoever sat at his table for one breath, Intellect arose for the sake of his life. He cuts off the water of anyone from the pool, When he reaches the sea, no one consumes it. As long as he is in the stream, although he is not treacherous, The water of the stream is not safe from the water of the stream. When he reaches the sea from the stream and the plain, Even the cormorant cannot circle around him. Sometimes the stranger, although he is a master of arts, Is also abased by the hand of the world. The dry place and the field that was a sown field, Wherever there was a ghoul, it was full of ghouls. The people of Ghaznin have now rested, And from the loss that was, they have profited. Whoever joined your state, Escaped from strangeness, deception, and sorrow. Whoever suffered hardship for the sake of the king, His hardship brought treasure to his house. Then you, like the sun, O king of monuments, Will be lost in the horizon like Solomon. The king who seeks the pearl-filled crown, Washes the pearl of the sword in blood. At the door of the palace of the religion-nurturing king, For the sake of name and honor and the acquisition of art. The sword-bearers like the spear and like the lancehead, All leaping and having tied their waists. When does the shadow of the spindle and women's spindle-case, Show to a man the point of a lance? All having sacrificed their souls before the king, Although all the strangers are relatives of the king. The adversary from the sky-burning lancehead, Has shown stars in the day. The hand of the king would be generous and prepared, That the cloud without water and fire would be nothing. His hand and sword gave fire to the enemy, That when cloud rubbed upon cloud, fire was born. His hand is a pearl-raining fire, His foot is like the pearl-bearing sea. He provoked fire in the heart of the enemy, That mace-holding, castle-breaking hand. His court is worthy of refuge, His throne is worthy of the crown of the moon. If on the day of battle and hatred, The sky would be the earth beneath him. His hand and sword set fire among the Zoroastrians, Lightning is born when cloud rubs against cloud. It shows from the mace the mountain-melter, And from the poplar arrow like life-processing death. The maces are coral-moistened clouds, The spears are fire-breathing dragons. He is like a mountain full of pure gold, The source of the cloud rises from the mountain. The gray horse galloping in the middle of the field, The scorpion's tail a polo-stick maker from Venus. Breaking off the extravagant halters, Tearing up the canopies of battle. You made the kingdom right for yourself with the sword, Bravo, in the name of God, what a heart you have! One cannot say your heart is a sea, It is a place of safety and a refuge for the creation. Jupiter, that it may come before your throne, Awaits your request. The moon of dignity took from the refuge of your kingdom, The noise of this untying and tying counted upon you. You came from the path of journeying in such a way, That from the ascension of the spirit of the Prophet. The hand in the brain of the lower center, The foot on the top of the upper world. Unpassed from that path of breath, The army of the king passed from that path and that's it. Underneath, the sky laughs upon him, That for the sake of your battle it binds its waist. Weeping bitterly it pours down from the sky, If the moon avoids your door. My fortune came as a guide today, That your praise was performed by me. My service resembles paradise, It resembles a beautiful-natured Houri. It is the Tuba branch from every side, It is the city of Jesus from every direction. Like Mary is the face of my meanings, All pregnant virgins. It did not remain hidden to the people of art, The precious pearl from the donkey's bead.