We are the people of loving-kindness,
leaders and guides of one another;
through the purity of love
we are helpers of one another.
Though in body separate, we are all
but one spirit;
we are all the soul, spirit, heart and beloved
of one another.
We are all one people:
without “you” and “I” there is only “we,”
all equal, all love, all companions
of one another.
No one but us is allowed
to enter our private quarters.
We are all tied to each other, all sympathetic
with one another.
Each one would sacrifice himself
for the other here.
All are candles and moths, all flowers and gardens
for one another.
Without doubt, our assembly is
an intimate retreat.
All are selfless, drunk and sober
from one another.
The armies of the self
have fled from us,
for we are fellow soldiers here,
all commanders of one another.
Our pain requires
neither doctor nor remedy.
We are all the cure and the patient
for one another.
If you call for someone here,
all will answer, “Yes!”
for all have one name; all are companions,
cohorts of one another.
Our place is the house of love,
full of passion and music,
for all are songs, reed pipes and lutes
for one another.
O Nurbakhsh, it is from being without
“I” and “we”
that we are the merchants and customers
of one another.