top of page

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.

bottom of page