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At the Tavern Door

We are here at the tavern door,

          awaiting the Beloved’s wish;

our only desire

          is whatever that Sweetheart wants.

A hundred thanks that we were set free

          from the tarnish of multiplicity.

Now, in the realm of Unity,

          what could the awakened heart want?

In the tavern, we are joyful

          and without desire;

there is a burning sigh in our breasts —

          what does it want?

In quest of the Beloved,

          my heart bled in suffering and my soul departed;

that cunning Heart-Ravisher —

          what more can She want?

Having abandoned reason,

          we are bewildered and drunk;

from drunkards

          what could the sensible, sober man want?

If slandered, we will not be offended,

          but only wonder

what that immature, ignorant slanderer

          could want.

Whether light is bestowed or not

          there is no worry;

our only desire is

          whatever that Sweetheart wants.

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