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.