I am he who cannot be contained
by the narrow kingdom of the world;
my home is beyond the sun and moon
that hang in the sky.
I have sold creation and everything therein
for a grain of barley,
for the sphere of forms and images
is not my place.
Wayfarers have left
no footprints behind;
when I look closely
there is no trace of mine.
No one is a stranger
in this realm;
whomever I approach
is known to me from afar.
In the entire world I find no trace
other than the Friend’s;
wherever I look,
I see my Lord.
At the gathering called
the banquet of love
I summon now
the travelers on the mystical path.
At dawn, with the ear
of awareness,
I heard God’s herald proclaim:
“Nurbakhsh, your light is for Me.”