Those filled with the pain of longing for You
do not think about a cure;
they have given up both heart and religion,
and sit here without “I” and “we.”
Your lovers come
by the way of fidelity,
and with purity
sit at Your doorway.
In the royal court of Your grace,
the beggars at Your door
sit with their needs satisfied
and their hearts joyful.
Your needy ones have no regard
for existence and the world;
they sit in Your sanctuary
without provisions.
When Your wine-worshipers
encircle Your vat,
they sit, goblet in hand,
without asking, why or how.
Life is not worth a grain of barley
for those afflicted by Your love.
How then could they sit
hoping for a cure?
In God’s house, it is impossible
for the men of God
to sit inattentive to Him, like you,
O pretenders!
The retreat of the rendan
bestows light to the heavens.
All sit in remembrance of God,
facing God.