His Royal Highness Sultan Azlan Shah Is No More

My heart sank.
Before me lay a vast desert of emptiness.
Pitch black night descended at noon,
I could see no more nor move nor breathe.

He was my friend,
He was the friend of all.
We shall not see his like again.
He was a destiny maker.
I remember Tuanku:
A debonair sportsman,
A gentle jurist,
An impeccable dresser,
His shoes immaculately polished.
His suits and ties were designed in heaven,
Say Karim and Fariba of Bond Street.
He was a man's man.
He had a rolls-Royce charisma,
He charmed all who met him.
He had charity for all.

His lips puckered mischievously
When uttering a witty or humorous remark,
Always done with a twinkle in his eyes.
His face shone like a diamond when happy.

He loved people, books,
Madam Butterfly at Covent Garden,
The Phantom of the Opera, Evita,
Football, hockey and golf.

He was very fond of
Professor JC Smith of the Theft Act fame,
His teacher at Nottingham,
Often seen with his charming wife in Tuanku's entourage.
Tuanku especially loved his mother and Batu Gajah.

Above all,
Above all he loved Bainun, His Queen, from the first to last,
His children, grand children and great grand children
Very, very much.

May endless rows of yellow roses
Grace his grave and wherever he trod,
May joy and peace be his constant companions.