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The Beggars of the Tavern of Ruin

We, beggars

          in the tavern of ruin,

drink the wine

          of His pure essence.

Selfless from

          the colorless wine,

we are the mirror image

          of God’s countenance.

We played the backgammon of love with Him,

          and the Beloved won.

In chess we were checkmated

          by the Friend’s rook.

We do not belong

          to the people of prayer and litany;

we have stopped

          petitioning God.

In every direction

          we see the face of the Beloved,

not seeking the Kaaba

          or other holy places.

We are annihilated from self

          and free from others;

we are far away from the mullah

          and his hypocritical nonsense.

We are the bestower of light

          and the enemy of the pretentious;

we annul the magic and miracles

          of false pretenders.

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