I am still drunk that you were here, and you were mine. And once again I stretch my hand out for that wine; As your drunk eyes could not bestir themselves, I too Can’t move; as you love wine, I love the wine that’s you;
What's all this hiding happiness and wine away? I've lined up with the libertines now, come what may.
In love, the Sufi meeting house And wine-shop are one place; As are all places where we find The loved one's radiant race; And what the Sufis make a show of Can be found equally Among the monks, before their cross, Within a monastery.
