I praise the tavern of ruin
and the people of vision there;
they have no thought of this world
or the next
there.
In the alley of fana neither
verdant nor withered appears;
nothing is fruitful
or fruitless
there.
Self display won’t find its way
to this festival of fidelity;
discussion of this world and the next
is very brief
there.
In the world of “we” and “you”
there is reason to fear danger;
when “we” and “you” is dispelled
there will be no danger
there.
The good and evil in this world come
from the good and bad inside you;
when you become all good,
there will be no “good” or “evil”
there.
When you find fault with this world
the fault is really your own;
nothing but beauty
and serenity prevails
there.
When you reject others
you are the rejected one.
How could rejection or acceptance
ever be found
there?
This knowledge of yours is but a toy
of the imagination, not a virtue;
the knowledge of every expert
will be useless
there.
The humility, selflessness
and abjection of the rend
is considered the crown and belt
of power
there.
In the book of Unity you find nothing
but the lesson of Truth;
pedantic learning is worthless
there.
Unless you erase the image of self
from heart and soul
don’t even think about
traveling
there.
There is nothing but the Light of God,
the Eye of God and the Face of God;
what is “other than God” is not found
there.
Man and creation,
in bewilderment and remorse,
have cast down
their shields
there.
The falcon of the intellect
is too weak to fly there;
nothing but the bird of loving-kindness
spreads its wings
there.
No name, no trace,
no custom, no way;
neither guide nor traveler
is known
there.
The life span of the world,
from pre- to post-eternity,
from beginning to end,
is not even a moment
there.
Surrendering one’s head, risking one’s life,
and breaking the self
are known as greatness,
conquest and victory
there.
In that tavern, the wanderers of God
find the comfort they seek;
the vagrants of God
won’t be homeless
there.
This imaginary existence, which is
the source of our shame,
is even more unreal
than fantasy and speculation
there.
Selflessness is the source
of all kinship;
poverty is considered
prosperity and abundance
there.
On that meadow only the flower
of Unity grows;
but for the palm tree of loving-kindness
nothing bears fruit
there.
Although the haunters of that tavern
cannot tell head from foot,
not every foolish vagabond
can enter
there.
Unless you give up
self-existence
you will be neither
destitute nor esteemed
there.
In the state of oblivion
there is no asking for a cure.
Since there is no sting
how can there be need for a lancet
there?
Your self-existence
is the price of admission;
nothing is sold
for gold or silver
there.
One in pain and in need of a cure
cannot be found there;
there is no yearning or
flirtation
there.
This place is beyond whatever
you can conceive of;
the arrow of imagination
cannot reach
there.
These manifest patterns
are figments of your thought;
when you no longer exist
these forms won’t be
there.
There is but one Being,
and He is oblivious to supplication;
wailing and sighing till dawn
won’t open a way
there.
The tavern’s sacred grounds are free
from all piety and self-display;
many centuries of devotion
have been rendered useless
there.
No lover, no beloved
to need any wine;
no reed pipe, no player
to need sugar cane
there.
Where are words and speech
that may roar like a tempest?
Where are moist eyes
to spill jewel-like tears
there?
All agitation and tumult come from
rawness and imperfection;
When there is no imperfection,
no passion or uproar will exist
there.
There is no name or trace
of your fame there;
no one but the Beloved
is celebrated
there.
Without speaker, without listener,
without Moses, without Sinai,
the cry of “I am the Truth”
comes from every bush
there.
Unless you abandon arguments,
you will never find your way there,
for light is not bestowed
upon every sightless one
there.
Our hope lies in this:
that one day,
by the grace of love,
we may lay down our heads
there.