How beautifully the apprentice of the weaver said

Like the mythical phoenix, raising an elephant and a giraffe

No shape will come from my hand

For its design was not closed by the teacher from above

If your condition is bad or good

It is the creator of fate’s hand that draws it

In this is a form of hidden polytheism

That Zayd may harm and Umar may be harmed

If the Lord of command grants you vision

You will see no other face of Zayd or Umar

Do not think that if a servant draws a breath

His Lord will draw a pen of sustenance for him

The creator of the world grants openings

For if He closes, who knows how to open?