Poem #309

Love-making, youth, and ruby wine that flows,

The circle of companions, where joy grows.

Cupbearer sweet of jest, the minstrel's dulcet song,

Good company and comrades of renown among the throng.

A beauty pure as life's own spring makes envy start,

In loveliness that puts the full moon's pride apart.

A banquet hall as fair as Heaven's highest dome,

A garden all around like Eden's peaceful home.

Well-wishers seated in the rows, and servants courteous too,

Friends who know the secrets kept, companions tried and true.

Rose-red wine, bitter-sweet and sharp yet light,

With rubies from the Beloved's lips, and raw rubies bright.

The Cupbearer's glance plunders reason with a sigh,

The Beloved's tresses snare the heart that wanders by.

A wit who speaks like Hafez, sweet with jest and rhyme,

A patron like Qavam, whose generous light sublime.

Who seeks not this delight has wasted joy's sweet claim,

And who seeks not this gathering makes life itself a shame.