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Love’s speech

          is beyond words and meanings.

For love, there is another speaker,

          another language.

The pretender challenged, saying,

          “Speak of love.”

But words are wasted on one

          whose heart is deaf.

He who knows the lover’s world

          hears only

the whisperings of love

          and kindness.

Love speaks a tongue

          unknown to ordinary people;

leave behind their babble

          with its headaches.

One who denies love will never grasp

          our words;

nothing we could say would ever move

          his lifeless heart.

In the creed of loving-kindness

          there is no aimless talk;

only the bankrupt chatter

          behind every door.

Nurbakhsh, from love’s breath

          your speech is eloquent,

embraced by the heart

          of every clear-sighted mystic.

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