The Drunkards

¡Hola! Everybody...
Today I offer you “Drunkards,” a lively invocation to “lovers, singing from the garden, the ones with/ brilliant eyes,” by the great thirteenth-century Sufi poet Rumi.

* * *

-=[ The Drunkards ]=-

by Rumi


The drunkards are rolling in slowly, those who hold to wine
are approaching.
The lovers come, singing, from the garden, the ones with
brilliant eyes.
The I-don't-want-to-lives- are leaving, and the I-want-tolives
are arriving.
They have gold sewn into their clothes, sewn for those who
have known.

Those with ribs showing who have been grazing in the old
pasture of love
are turning up fat and frisky.

The souls of pure teachers are arriving like rays of sunlight
from so far up to the ground-huggers.

How marvelous is that garden, where apples and pears, both
for the sake of two Mary's,
are arriving even in winter.

Those apples grow from the Gift, and sink back into the Gift.
It must be that they are coming from the garden to the garden.