Don't Forget Your Roots

Arabic and Persian, his words entwined, In both, his brilliance truly shined. 450 works, his legacy vast, A polymath in an era cast. Son of Sina, though a misnomer, Great-great-grandson, a revered namer. Abū ʿAlī al-Ḥusayn, his true birthright, A scholar's soul, forever in flight. In the Islamic Golden Age's embrace, Translations flourished, a wisdom chase. Byzantine, Persian, and Indian lore, Enlightened minds sought to explore. Samanid courts, where Avicenna roamed, In Bukhara's halls, wisdom he foamed. Debates with scholars, a mental dance, In Khwarezm's libraries, a scholar's trance. A prodigy from youth, Quran in his heart, Mathematics, logic, he'd swiftly impart. From Indian grocer to wise Natili's care, His intellect soared through the scholarly air. Physician to Nuh II, at seventeen's dawn, A healer's path, wisdom withdrawn. In Gurganj's court, necessity's decree, He served Ma'munid, wisdom's key. From Gurganj's embrace, to the west he'd go, Through Nasa, Abivard, his knowledge would grow. To Ray's court, where Buyids ruled, Majd al-Dawla, a patron's jewel. In Hamadan's service, he penned his prose, A vizier, a healer, his journey chose. Philosopher, physician, and poet's pen, Avicenna's tale,.