Original content

English translation

An aged, long-lived elder was in Syria Who, when reading the Torah in due season, Whenever he reached the Prophet's name, Would erase it or cut it out from there. When he opened the scripture the next day, He would find the Prophet's name written again. Once more he would begin to erase his name, And the next day he would find that writing returned. One day his heart grew heavy, and he said to himself: 'I cannot cover the sun with mud. Perhaps this leader who has arisen is indeed the Truth.' He set out and came straight to Medina. He arrived there in the heat of the day, Not knowing where to go or the way. As he came before the Prophet's mosque, Anas came to meet him with a burning heart. He said to Anas: 'O pure gem! Guide me to the presence of the Prophet.' Anas took him into the mosque weeping, And saw those people sitting there bewildered. Abu Bakr (the Siddiq) had cast his cloak in the prayer niche, And around him sat the truth-seeking companions. The aged man imagined That Siddiq was the Prophet standing before them. He said to him: 'O special Messenger of the Divine Court, This strayed elder offers you greetings.' When they all heard the Prophet's name, They fluttered like a half-sacrificed bird. From their eyes they shed tears of blood like rain; What a storm those companions poured forth! A great cry arose from among the gathering; You would say from each heart a hundred candles flared. That footbound stranger was going along, His heart broken by their lamentation. He said to them: 'I am a stranger, A Jew, and without portion in your sacred law. Did I perhaps say something that should not be said, Which I ought to have kept hidden? Otherwise, why do you weep so much? For I am unaware of the ways of this religion.' Umar said to him: 'This weeping is not because There is any fault on your part. But it has been a week, O distressed man, Since the Prophet departed from this world. When we heard his name from your tongue, All our souls were wounded with grief, just as yours is. At times we are in fire from longing for him, At times we are in freezing cold from his absence. Alas, the world-illuminating light of our eyes, Without whom we have become mere specks of dust today! Alas, such a magnificent ocean, Without which we are left as less than a tiny drop!' When the secret became manifest to the elder, He tore his garments all at once. He shed more rain from his eyes Than the clouds pour down in spring. In the burning pain of 'O my yearning!' and 'O my grief!' A new mourning began anew that day. In short, when at last the clamor subsided, Reason returned, and the heart's fierce distress waned. The Jew said: 'Do one thing for me: Bring me a garment of the Prophet. So that if it was not granted to me to see his face, I might at least smell his scent.' Umar said to him: 'This garment can be requested, But we must seek it from Zahra (Fatima).' Ali said: 'Who would dare go to her? For her door has been closed completely. Throughout this week, she sits with bowed head, For she has the greatest grief of all. She speaks no words due to her mourning, And does not rest for a moment from weeping.' Yet all the companions, in their grief and tribulation, Eventually went to the Lady of Paradise. Someone knocked on the door, and a voice cried out: 'Our day has departed, and night has arrived. Who is knocking at the door of an orphan like me, Left behind a ragged blanket? Who is knocking at the door of a captive like me, Sitting upon an old woven mat? Who is knocking at the door of a sorrowful one like me, With death laying in ambush for my soul?' In short, they told her the whole story, And she said: 'The Prophet spoke the truth. For at the hour when he surrendered his soul to the Just Judge, Under his breath, he gave me news of this situation, Saying: 'A lover of ours is coming from the road, But that well-wisher shall not see my face. Give him this patched cloak, for it is entirely his, And convey our greetings to him in the finest manner.'' When they gave him the patched cloak, he wore it; When its scent reached him, he boiled with joy. As the scent drew his sincerity close, He became Muslim and asked for the dust of Mustafa. They took him from there to that earth, And that pure soul sat down with a heavy heart. When that Muslim smelled the scent of his earth, He sank down, and his pure soul departed. With weeping, that sorrow-eating elder gave up his soul, Having placed his face upon the Prophet's dust. If you are a lover, adopt this creed; Like a candle, die in such a manner from longing for the Beloved.