I am a beggar at love’s door,
having left myself behind;
I am a stranger in the whole city,
homeless everywhere.
O religious hypocrite, you can have His paradise
and all the virgins therein.
I will not go anywhere; instead I will remain
in the dust by His door.
I’ll take drunkenness and madness;
leave the mullah to his supplications and prayers.
How could he know my state,
as I am unconscious of my self?
On the path of fidelity I cannot tell
head from foot.
There is a world of difference between
the petty mullah and me.
I’ve shut my self-seeing eyes
in the tavern of the ruin;
I can now behold God’s face clearly
with His own eyes.
From His love I have attained
an eagle-like splendor.
I will not fly away from His district of loving-kindness
in search of worthless desires.
Nurbakhsh left behind everyone
when he sat with the Friend,
saying, “I want only the Friend,
as other than Him is worthless.”