O Ravisher of hearts! You accept me,
but why do You want me disgraced?
You pull my heart with Your braids,
but why in every direction?
Each moment, in a different way, You defeat
contenders at love’s backgammon;
I have lost my self from the very first,
why do You seek to defeat me yet again?
In love’s market place
I closed my eyes to all existence;
since this is a clear gain,
what more should I want?
You want the mansion of the heart
emptied of strangers and for Yourself alone.
Why then have You become
a companion to all?
Having told us that only the believer’s heart
is Your throne,
why, then, do You display Your beauty unconcerned
upon every wall, through every door?
And if, O Nurbakhsh, the stranger’s ears
can’t hear the speech of the soul,
why, then, do you create
such a commotion?