If I were to tell the thoughts of my heart
You'd either be amazed like me or not believe.
“Abūl Faẓl, son of Mubārak, why has your wisdom-seeking heart grown full of whispers of hidden things, and of speech about subjects of silence. Are you bringing your characteristics into the hall of publicity, and are you giving the stranger an audit into the secret chamber of your heart? A spring of vision is trickling from your clear, inner chamber. What wise man's part is it to let wine flow* out? Stand resolutely on the cloth of service and make supplication to God while praising your king. Convey holy mysteries in a secular strain.” The message of truth brought back my heart from folly. Strength was given to my purpose. Vigour for work increased, and a fresh glory was bestowed on my nature! The inscription which Fortune wrote on my destiny's portico and which impawned this slave of Gratitude was that I should be tied to the saddlestraps of eternal dominion and become a historian of marvels. This constellation of intellect's horizon, and this star of a spiritual heaven (the Akbarnāma) was, from its glorious ascension, day by day presented for the auspicious hearing (of Akbar), as it came to the tongue of the pen and was transferred to paper, and was welcomed by him. Happy the slave whose service is approved by the Shāhinshāh, and who gets a mark of approbation from his Court!
God be praised! This first narrative
I have made right in an excellent way,
During the period of this composition
The word was mine, the inspiration the Shāh's
Should genius make me hopeful
Heaven grant leisure and Fortune courage
I shall by the motion of the heavens-traversing pen
Carry to an end this lofty writing.*