Bittersweet is the world’s cup
From lover’s lips and the cup sips.
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With good company and harp and reed
The warmth of wine runs through my veins,Why should I succumb to my greed?
The corner of the tavern is my altar, where I pray
Fear not if the harp plays not at sun’s morning ascentMy morning cry of repentance is the music I play.Thank God, free from beggars and kings, away, I stay;Homage, to the beggar at the door of the Beloved, I pay.For Thee, in the mosque and the tavern, my time, I spent;By God, from this intent,…
When there is wine, no need to cry;
Your lips are green, bring forth the wine.Drinking at the green, everyone must try.
All treasures ain’t worth this oppression.
Not even seven thousand years of joyIs worth seven days of depression.
O divider of heaven and hell bring relief,
How long upon our lives you prey?Why don’t you hunt our lives’ thief?
FROM out the street of So-and-So,
For I am sick and pale with woe;Oh bring me rest from misery!The dust that lies before her door,Love’s long desired elixir, pourUpon this wasted heart of mine–Bring me a promise and a sign!Between the ambush of mine eyesAnd my heart’s fort there’s enmity–Her eye-brow’s bow, the dart that flies,Beneath her lashes, bring to me!Sorrow…