Classic Poem

Mad with longing for Thy vision.
Hour by hour I crave to see Thee hear, O Lord Rahman.

Drunken, heedless of the body, I have drained the cup of love.
If I rise, I stagger and fall, steeped, inebriate with Thee.

In Thy court I take my station, as a slave born in Thy house.
Upon my head a covering of righteousness and a like robe upon my neck.

Of prayer and prostrations naught I know: I know not how to keep the fast.
The call to prayer and instructions were forgotten then when I sought Thee in my heart or I will not omit.

Maluk says, Now I can not die, now that my heart rests on Thy heart.
Mecca and pilgrimage I saw within my heart, soon as I found the perfect guide.