by Nábit (martyred)
O joyous be that moment when bullets course towards my heart!
What grief I shall endure should my destiny’s decree be forestalled!
The very blood of God’s suffering lovers wields such mighty power
that through its force the Kingdom of Love can conquer the world.
While on this perilous path, the heart is constantly struggling
to seize the garment of the soul and never loosen its grasp.
Through this love, old ones become young again,
while remoteness from the Beloved ages each bright youth.
The thirsting ones search for flowing water, while the lover
is sated with this life by the fiery fever of attraction.
I have had a dream, and I trust that soon the Friend
becomes kind to me and makes the dream come true.
So it is that the mujtahid has condemned me to sweet death.
O God, let there be no delay in this!
It would be apt for these base ones to deem me an infidel
were I, Nábit, to cry out like Mansúr: “I am God!”