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The Beggars of Love

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.”

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