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Transfixed by the Cupbearer’s Face

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.

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