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I am he who cannot be contained

          by the narrow kingdom of the world;

my home is beyond the sun and moon

          that hang in the sky.

I have sold creation and everything therein

          for a grain of barley,

for the sphere of forms and images

          is not my place.

Wayfarers have left

          no footprints behind;

when I look closely

          there is no trace of mine.

No one is a stranger

          in this realm;

whomever I approach

          is known to me from afar.

In the entire world I find no trace

          other than the Friend’s;

wherever I look,

          I see my Lord.

At the gathering called

          the banquet of love

I summon now

          the travelers on the mystical path.

At dawn, with the ear

          of awareness,

I heard God’s herald proclaim:

          “Nurbakhsh, your light is for Me.”

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