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O Inspirer of hearts and vision,

          O You in Whose hands rest

the being and non-being

          of all manifest things,

O Bestower of vitality

          to all created existence,

O Bestower of spirit

          to the being of the newly-born,

It is not for us to ask You

          for what we lack,

O You, the ultimate goal

          of the fugitives from self.

You have given to all

          whatever they need.

You are too sublime for words,

          and far beyond what ears have heard.

In pre-eternity

          Your bounty inscribed

upon the tablet of the unseen

          whatever was right for each one.

Today is our festival —

          O You, the object of celebration

for the renouncers of all familiar comforts,

          visit us today!

Since You became the object

          of celebration for Nurbakhsh,

he no longer takes notice

          of created beings.

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