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"Ah, that Spring should vanish with the rose!"

Thus did Omar Khayyam lament.

But what if Spring visits graveyards,

Left desolate like an empty tent?

What if the season of blooming flowers and love,

Comes with its breeze on hardened rocks,

Will the caves open their treasure troves,

To welcome those whom the world mocks?

I have seen volcanoes seething to erupt,

In the months that make some flowers bloom,

Underneath the grass, on a full moon;

The secrets hidden in the shadows that loom.

Where, Spring cannot weave its magic wand,

Where stillness screams and ghosts haunt,

Visits frequented by stormy ruin.

Dwellings where Spring fails to bring,

Even a smile on parched lips,

Does it then matter if the nights enclose,

A flattering green and a flirting rose?

Everything is bright when the heart is merry,

This lesson I learned at a friend's party,

But then, I also learned that despondency,

Is always there to accompany me.

So I went to the place that I often go,

The tavern about which no one does know,

There I drink blessed wine with the saqi,

The wine which helps me combat sorrow.

When the one I loved left me alone,

And lonely and miserable, to mourn,

And when the heart wanted to burst inside

I searched for this tavern and made it my own.

For the saqi there is caring and kind,

She loves to be good to one and all,

And me she finds the most afflicted,

So serves me the drink which soothes my mind.

It is a drink with powers of its own,

Which takes me closest to my Creator alone,

Which draws out my tears and I weep like a child,

And the wounds hidden from all are to Him shown.