1. Salim the writer was unjustly slain
By the hands of fate in the prime of his youth

2. Fate took him at twenty, yet
Upon him was sorrow beyond all measure

3. He was content with his piety to God
For him reward was assured

4. Literature mourns him, that he is lost
His circle of friends weep for him bitterly

5. We have planted on his grave a monument
We date it like a branch in the dust