The Prophet's honor, with it hope is tied,

And his beginning in the long term is simple,

His brilliance in the necklace of splendor is a link,

The light of the Prophet, his radiance is spread,

It removes the darkness of the blind polytheism,

The light of the forenoon informs you of his Surah's explanation,

About what appeared from his elevation in his victory,

Thanks for his compassion towards us and his advice,

The rhyme is tight, so his praise cannot be encompassed,

Ever, and the sea of knowledge from him is vast,

That merciful one with us, eager for our guidance,

He continues to guide us to the path of our profit,

The meanings of his grace are beyond our explanation,

Our praises are weak, so the ultimate praise,

In him is concise and the glory is simple,

Good news for those who recite the praises of Ahmad,

And he who rejoices with a praiseworthy character,

I say, perhaps I will see from a helper,

I struck the words of Muhammad's praise,

I organized them like pearls, and they are a string,

The verses of the beloved's praises I recited,

And the traces of praise I followed,

They responded with good affection when I called them,

I included his attributes and revealed them,

Virgin, for her the love of hearts is a dot,

From Ahmad's light what appeared from brightness,

The light of existence and the crown of all prophets,

The most generous of the generous in giving and the most modest,

His hands rival the clouds in abundant modesty,

And from his bounty, the shores flowed abundantly,

The verses of Taha cannot be counted in description,

Alas, this has no end,

And his book in the books became established,

The Prophet recorded our book when it ended,

With the revelation to the faithful spirit descending,

The warner said, return to your Lord and withdraw,

The garment of desire and take your remembrance and adopt,

The hem of youth with the light of old age when praised,

Old age laughed mockingly, and I cried when,

Threads appeared on my temples,

O master, who has attained every honor,

And possessed what no one else ever possessed,

I am your sinful servant hoping for aid,

I wasted the times of life in vain, and indeed,

Lines were written on the forehead,

O you, by whom those before him were surpassed,

And the noble one raised his rank,

The lover said, and you have become his concern,

The solace lay with my soul, dead to it,

From the water of my tears a washer and embalming,

My heart is always witnessing the beloved,

My connection with him is my passion and my eye is awake,

And upon him from my longing, my conscience returns,

My weakness is the evidence, and on my cheek is a witness,

The line of my paleness is expressed and dotted.