With languishing eyes
I am so transfixed by the Cupbearer’s face
that I no longer care for Her goblet
or the wine inside.
I am that shattered cup,
so drunk by Her beauty
that I am not interested in the chalice,
and I won’t lose my calm.
I desire neither union nor separation;
I care not for pain or cure.
All volition has slipped away
from the control of my free will.
Why ask me about belief and unbelief
when I am beyond both?
Why ask me of my state
when I have left my self?
I won’t set out for the garden,
for I can’t tell rose from thorn.
My expectant eyes
have turned away from both worlds.
I am freed from identity and name
and have left behind all customs.
I am no longer involved
with the people of the world.
If from the realm of Unity
with the tongue of the people of multiplicity
Nurbakhsh has spoken vain words
I am utterly ashamed.