O Inspirer of hearts and vision,
O You in Whose hands rest
the being and non-being
of all manifest things,
O Bestower of vitality
to all created existence,
O Bestower of spirit
to the being of the newly-born,
It is not for us to ask You
for what we lack,
O You, the ultimate goal
of the fugitives from self.
You have given to all
whatever they need.
You are too sublime for words,
and far beyond what ears have heard.
In pre-eternity
Your bounty inscribed
upon the tablet of the unseen
whatever was right for each one.
Today is our festival —
O You, the object of celebration
for the renouncers of all familiar comforts,
visit us today!
Since You became the object
of celebration for Nurbakhsh,
he no longer takes notice
of created beings.