Khamryyat

Spurred on by Abu Nuwas' verses on wine, which really impressed me, I decided that I would try writting my own wine poetry.

He who swims upstream, 

What shall he reap ? 

For all the blood he has spillt, the harvest of the idle

Is well worth his.

Unbind your eyes from your sowing ;

Seeds only shine in your own furrows.

You fool-under-the-moon, let it be.

I found life lying dormant in a glistening glass of mercury-colored wine,

A gem of oblivion whose glint reflected the weaving of the heavens ;

Empty and boundless as they. 

Past my lips, I spilled clear burning silver ;

As it evaporated to a hanging fog I swam

In time-denying stupor.