Crazy my love for the Lover beyond reproach;
Alas for the heart that drinks her poison hooch!
She gave me her lips again and again, but now
I can’t remember who, or when, or where, or how!
My memories have all gone the way of whirling dust:
All my thought dances about in pure spinning lust.
I dance with a Jinn who has stolen my rhythm,
And leads me about with an Anatolian spin!
But her eyes! They are lies; yes they are lies that cheat
And inspire me to drink yet again with glances sweet!
All my life lies between her lips and my divan;
Her taste lingers and excites- but the sober yawn!
The fault, my dear, does not lie with the beloved,
But with the artless Darvish drunk and decrepit!
