A Tavern Which Each Moment Takes a Life

A tavern which each moment takes a life as pleasure's pay is earth;
A glass which for a thousand souls doth sell each drop of spray is earth.

The world's a Magian that adores the flame of power and fortune high;
If thou should brightly shine, a moth about thy taper's ray is earth.

Anon one is, anon is not — thus ever runs the course of time;
From end to end a warning-fraught, a strange, romantic lay is earth.

'Twixt sense and frenzy 'tis indeed right hard to draw the sund'ring line.
Ah me! if understanding's wise, demented sooth alway is earth.

The desolation of the world beside its weal is truth itself;
Just as prosperity it seems, so ruin and decay is earth.

How many Khusrevs and Jemshîds have come, and from its bower have past!
A theatre that vieweth many and many an act and play is earth.

Ziyâ, a thousand caravans of wise men through its realms have past;
But yet not one can tell its tale, and all unknown this day is earth.