He who was parading his “I” and “we”
in a hundred different ways yesterday,
today I saw crying,
“O my Lord, O my God!”
I said, “Be thankful
for God’s concealment;
He could have exposed you
for your shameless stubbornness.”
The wayward intellect,
known for infamy and ill-repute,
was mocking
and shaming love.
But in the end the harvest
of its existence was scattered to the winds,
although in private
it would deny this fact.
In madness love erased
the book of knowledge,
while the man of reason watched
from outside love’s circle.
Love’s method
is total silence,
Otherwise, its eloquence of speech
would cause an uproar.
Those slain by love
have no desire to talk or be heard.
Otherwise, Nurbakhsh, too,
would have created a commotion.