Yes, it was I, I remember now
Who had drunk the fragrant wine of persia
With unquenched thirst
and with purling music had enticed my heart.
I was Khayyam and Hafiz, with flowing beard
And dozing eyes
Face clouded with dreams and riddles
Mind impassioned in eager love
Mellow on the pink grape wine
Overflowing the cask
I saw on leaves and trees and grass and sedge
But the passing of a moment of love
In the contours of Anarkali I saw
A deep sea of mystery
As if the wishes of the unseen one
Were but a strain of my love’s melody.
As if it was I who had served
The ease of poesy
Mixing wine with the Shirazi garden.
