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My eyes don’t rest

          on any face but Yours.

I go towards no place

          other than Your district.

I am a dry, withered tree;

          burning is my art.

Except for this, I bear no fruit

          in the garden of love.

O Cupbearer, pour what wine You will;

          I am surrendered like an empty cup.

In my heart there is no complaint;

          I have no tearful eyes.

In Your sanctuary, I am safe

          and content with Your bliss.

What worry if I am

          leafless and barren!

When I entered the tavern of ruin, I saw

          that before the majesty

of Your presence

          there was no trace of me.

I had always desired

          to know You;

since I have known You

          I know nothing else.

I bestow light because I have always

          wanted only You;

I have had no desire or concern

          for other than You.

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