Muntakhab al-tawarikh 366.8

366.8

He it is whom the wish of all the prophets has gained for the world He is the moon from whom the sun receives his light, He is a lion beneath whose feet the lion of the heavens lies in the mire His protection has thrown up a fortress around the people of the world From which, except by death and by the gate of death, no one can pass If the arm of the sky should feel, even in a dream, the strength of thy grasps, it would pluck from its joint its withered hand When thy majestic shout reaches a mountain range It reverberates, coiling like a whip lash about the mountain masses If one dot of the qaf of thy power could be weighed against Qaf (Caucasus) The dot would take the place of Qaf and the scale of Qaf would fly up as high as Saturn If thy hand should check the reins of eternity without end It would fall a thousand stages behind eternity without beginning. The tree of the sky is but one leaf from the garden of thy power The garden of the world is but half a mound from the cultivated area of thy munificence Thy age has so sweetened the disposition of the world That it is no longer possible to distinguish between poison and honey I weep seas upon seas and worlds upon worlds of blood, I blossom with gardens upon gardens and meadows upon meadows of roses.”