In truth, wine is a limpid spirit in the cup; in the body
of the flask, it is a transparent soul. No annoying person
is worthy of my society. It is only the cup of wine
which can figure there, for that is at once a solid and a
diaphanous body.
O Wheel of Heaven! Thou art complete in Thy ingratitude.
Thou keepest me constantly bare [naked]
like a fish. The weaver's loom weaves clothes for human
beings; more charitable is it than Thou, O Wheel of
Heaven!
O Khayyam! Time is ashamed of him who allows his
heart to be saddened by vicissitudes below; drink, then,
to the sound of the harp, drink some wine from the
crystal, before the crystal broken be upon a stone.
If the rose is not our portion, do not the thorns remain?
If light divine does not reach us, is there not the fire [of
hell]? If we have not the clerical mantle, or that of
the temple, or the pontifical, do not the bells, the church,
and the ephod remain to us?
If the Wheel of Heaven refuses me peace, am I not
ready for war? If I have not an honorable reputation,
have I not shame for myself? Here is the cup full of
wine the color of rubies; he who will not drink of it, has
he not his head and a stone?