Lovers are strangers

Lovers are strangers to themselves;
They are drunk with the wine of selflessness.
Away from temple and mosque,
They sit in the drinking tavern day and night.
Though they're drunk completely,
There is no Saqi or the cup or the wine.
From pre-eternity they are with the spirits
And to the eternal end they are with the heavenly.
They traverse body and soul in a moment
And live undaunted in the Sufi way.
They are a hidden treasure,*
Hence they dwell in the wilderness.
The two worlds are a mere fantasy for them;
That is why in both worlds they are a fantasy.
The two worlds are the oyster and they
The pearl that dwells within.
They know themselves, even in their drunkenness,
Enough to be unaware of themselves.
They don't care if the world exists or not,
Thus they are both mad and sane.
Whoever has dwelt in this world like Attar
Is free of home and hearth and the world.

*A reference to God's reply to David, 'I was a Hidden Treasure.'

ATTAR, Fariduddin - Islamic Mystical Poetry. London: Penguin Books, 2009. 79 p.