Set out once more that cup, that wine, oh
Saki—
Let my true place at last be mine, oh Saki!
Three centuries India’s wine‐shops have been
closed,
And now for your largesse we pine, oh Saki;
My flask of poetry held the last few drops—
Unlawful, says our crabb’d devine, oh Saki.
Truth’s forest hides no lion‐hearts now: men
grovel
Before the priest, or the saint’s shrine, oh Saki.
Who has borne off Love’s valiant sword?
About
An empty scabbard Wisdom’s hands twine,
oh Saki.
Verse lights up life, while heart burns bright,
but fades
For ever when those rays decline, oh Saki;
Bereave not of its moon my night; I see
A full moon in your goblet shine, oh Saki!
[Translated by V.G. Kiernan]
*
He is the essence of the Space as well as the
Placeless Realm—
And Space is nothing but a figure of speech:
How could Khizer tell, and what,
If the fish were to ask, “Where is the water?”
[Translated by the Editors]