The Companion of the Mystics

O helper of sinners, granter of every plea, O companion of the mystics, O Lord of majesty. Your love turns every heart into a knot of trouble; your longing drives every wise mind to madness. Longing for you, my heart is lovesick; the passion of your love has set us on fire. The whole world of reason and soul stands bewildered before you; our hearts are like balls curved by your polo stick. The bird of my heart is caught in the snare of your love; whoever craves you holds his head high. The passion of your love has set the world ablaze; without you, a hundred mournings fill every corner. On your path the knowing mind loses itself; the sea of your love surges in our hearts. Kings are beggars at your gate; from you the world's empty-handed find their sustenance. Your love has sewn shut the eyes of the falcon of intellect; in your desire the bird of the soul burned its wings. The truest men remain bewildered on your road, deep red tears streaming down their pale faces. The souls of those who long for you rejoice in your pain; your chosen servants are the free ones of this world. Truly, a single moment of your wound and pain is sweeter to Qasemi than a hundred rose gardens. For the one who is intimate with these words, the sting becomes honey, and the wound becomes its own cure. O you, before whose praise all tongues fall silent; in longing for you the bird of imagination has thrown down its wings. In praising you Qasemi is left bewildered, seeing no end and wandering lost. The sorrow of your love agrees with my soul; my heart hopes in your acts of grace. O Lord, sovereign of the world, generous one, undying and eternal, the living and ancient one. None but your kindness comes to the rescue; O God of all the worlds, come to my aid. My King, we are your weary servants, all of us bound and shackled by desire. We stand bewildered in the desert of searching, drowned in an endless ocean. Without your grace the soul has no strength; O refuge of those who cry for help, grant your mercy. Confused Qasem is one who wanders for you; if he is bad, and if he is good, either way he is yours. O generous Lord who sets things right, by your grace set my affairs in order. One last sip, for through anxious reasoning I am left thirsty in the wilderness of pride. A single pull of grace, so that for one moment I may take flight and soar in the air of the placeless realm. With your kindness, make my heart's house flourish; free my soul from the chains of the world. Give the bird of my soul a way to union with you; grant me a seeing eye and an aware heart. Make my soul a stranger to the world's people; make the memory of you dwell in my heart. Hold back the vulture of the lower self from its games; keep the bird of my soul aloft in your desire. Draw me near to yourself and far from the crowd; forgive my humiliation and my sin, O most forgiving one. Keep my soul in the fervor of love; keep my secret hidden from the people of the world.