love, disowned!

I drank
by her hand
greedily, lustily

and in between unapologetic quaffs
I prayed, ‘give me that,
which in your cellar abounds;
for if I taste a vintage rare,
tomorrow, my thirst
all the oases of this wilderness
shall quench, nor sate’.

and she,
in whispers,
cautious and carefree
diffident and bold
expectant and aloof,
spoke:

‘yesterday this day's madness did prepare;
tomorrow’s silence, triumph, or despair:
drink! for you not know whence you came, nor why:
drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.’1

by her fancy,
I drank.

when my rapture
I could not contain
I cried, ‘No more’,
And, meant it not.

she put her burning lips to my ear,
and poured in the nectar of an otherworldly allure:

‘blossoming verse underneath the bough,
a bowl of wine, some bread, and thou,
beside me singing in the wilderness,
oh, wilderness were paradise now!’2

on her shoulder, my stupor did rest
without a thought, a care or regret;

and when I woke
there was naught;
just the scorching sun
to mock my lot.

my face I held in my hands
and through baffled tears
I wondered,
could it be just a dream?
a mirage?
or some unearthly game?

treacherous trickery!

thence,
however, it must be told
to my approach runs dry
every oasis
in this barren
irredeemable
godforsaken
zone.

and I waste away,
thirsty, forlorn
sans that which by her hand
I drank.

--------------------------------------

1 Omar Khayyam. Ruba’i 74.
2 Omar Khayyam. Ruba’i 6.