111 I stand alone, enwrapped in this dark fate by thee. Dost thou threaten a servant loyal, true, Who never a trust of thine did rue, Yet spare a wrongdoer, rising high, Unscathed, unchecked, under thy sky? Thou art the spring, whose rains do bless, Reviving souls in happiness, Yet also a sword, death’s keen ally, Sharp and resolute when displeasure’s nigh. Yet, by God’s decree, justice shall reign, His faithfulness in every vein. Goodness shall not fade into night, Nor customs lost, but held in His light. Al-Nuʿmān ibn al-Munẓir walks towards the poet, l ifting his face covering, and exclaims:
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