In philosophy, if you are an Aristotle or a Bouzourdj-mehr;
in power, if you are some Roman emperor or some
potentate of China, drink ever, drink wine from the cup
of Djem, for the end of all is the tomb. Oh! though you
are Bahram himself, the coffin is your last sojourn.
I entered the studio of a potter. I watched him work
at his wheel, actively occupied in moulding the necks
and handles of pitchers, forming some of them like the
heads of kings, others like the feet of beggars.
Go, choose bliss, if you are wise, and finally you may
be able to drink wine from the hand of the drinkers of
eternity, but you are one of the ignorant and joy is not
in you, it is not given to every ignorant one to taste
the sweets that ignorance gives.
O idol, while you are on your journey through this
world, draw from the fountain-head into the pitcher, draw
this salutary wine and, ere the potter makes another
pitcher of my dust and thine, fill out a cup, drink it
and pass me one.
Be attentive, friend, and while thou still art able, lighten
the grief of a loving heart, for this kingdom of grace
that now thou hast will not last always, but, like so many
others thou shalt unexpectedly be called.