the wealth of poverty

I have seen that the lane of piety stretches out,

far, far into the distance;

My dearest friends, can you not show me then

the way of the madman?

Bring me a glass of Magian wine

that I may drink deep

for I have given up all thought

of ascetic piety;

or if the pure wine has all been downed

bring me the cloudy dregs

for thick residue lights up the heart 

and illuminates the eyes.

Tuppence for the Sufi meeting house!

I flee the company of the righteous;

fill up a row of glasses with wine

and bring me the first.

I have no rules or regulations,

nor heart nor religion -

only I remain, and you, sitting in the corner

and the wealth of Poverty.

All fear of God, all self-denial I deny;

bring wine, nothing but wine

for in all sincerity I repent

my worship which is but hypocrisy.

Yes, bring me wine, for I have renounced all renunciation

and all my vaunted self-righteousness

seems to me but swagger and self-display.

Now for a time let my proof be wine

against the sorrow of Time

for only in drunkenness can one be free

of the hour's grief.

Once I am thoroughly drunk, what difference

if I end up in a church or in Mecca?

Once I've abandoned myself, what matter

if I win Union - or separation?

I've been to the gambling house and seen 

that the losers there are pure;

I've been to the monastery and have found

no one but hypocrites.

Now I've broken my repentance, at least

do not break our covenant:

at least welcome this broken heart and say

"How are you? Where have you been?"

I've been to Mecca, to circle the Kaaba

but they refused me entrance

saying "Off with you!  What merit have you earned

outside, that we should admit you within?"

Then, last night, I knocked

at the tavern door;

from within came a voice: "'Iraqi! Come in!

for you are one of the chosen!"

~ Fakhruddin 'Iraqi

from the introduction to Divine Flashes

translation by William Chittick and Peter Wilson