Go away pious ascetic.
In your heart you have
neither burning nor the sighs
that can ignite fires.
You always look to heaven,
for in your eyes
you have no
love-teaching glance.
You have sacrificed head and soul
to “I” and “we”;
you have no hidden teaching
other than this.
So often are you in mourning
that you never
have time for festivity and
new year celebration.
You don’t achieve any special grace
with your night vigils
or from repeating “O God”
so often.
You have no arrows like ours, which come
from the sighing quiver of the heart
and which sew shut the mouth
of the false claimant.
And you, Nurbakhsh,
your heart is so enamored
from the Beloved’s love that you can’t tell
day from night.