Since the beginning, God’s own whim has always inspired us:
“Who am I” has nurtured our voice from stone to singing dust.
Our thirst has grown gradually to become our best friend;
It is on the glass of desire that all our hopes now depend.
Love at first was scarcely an intermittent drop;
Now each drink promises a bottle to be our lot.
It has come to this- we don’t know who we are unless drunk;
All but your laugh, smile, kiss and touch is trash- pure bunk!
We approach your grace with our empty glass held high;
We live with the one thought that by your mercy we die.
The dawn breeze brought the scent of strong Shirazi wine;
I resolved at once to all other aperitifs decline!
Darvish can no longer be sure who or what he is;
He has no doubt the beloved is truth, beauty and bliss!
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