I seek more of You than to name Your Name…
We are the flute: our music is all Yours.
The light of the soul sets not and has no yesterday.
Love is the astrolabe of your secrets.
If the light that illuminates the world were to draw near,
The world would be consumed.
you have chosen me to be Your house.
If I take annoyance at every rub
How wilt I become a polished mirror?
O God, show us all things in this house of deception:
Show them as they really are.
Through love the stake becomes a throne
Through love the king becomes a slave.
Soul, the breath of our praise, steals away
Little by little from the prison of this world…
Our breaths soar with the choice of words, as a gift from
To the abode of everlastingness.
Then comes to us the recompense of our praise,
A recompense manifold from God the merciful.
Then You cause us to seek more good words, so that
Your servant may win more of Your mercy.
Verily the source of our delight in prayer
Is the divine Love which without rest
Draws the soul home.