Number 11

For God's sake, you who lead the prayers, have mercy: your coldness toward us has gone past all bounds. Everywhere, whoever you ask, His home is there: it is everywhere, everywhere, everywhere, I say. I am spellbound by her hair; who knows what that black hair will bring forth, for 'the night is pregnant.' If you have drunk of it, may your hour be blessed, the pure wine poured from the cup of God Most High. We are drunk and joyful from the cup of longing for Him: ta-tan tan, tan ta-tan, tan tan, la-la-la. Break from yourself and join with Him, for this is our whole creed: to renounce all else and to love only Him. What is that self-absorbed Sufi saying? I stand there completely astonished at his words. Since you have no share from the lovers' cup, go and stop measuring out wine, you who only measure the wind. When Qasim broke free of his own existence, his wine turned pure and his cup ran clear.