Wednesday, November 12, 2008

The Feast

My face was bitter like pickles,
since it became separated from the sweet one

Be silent, for sugared almonds and sweetmeat with almonds are engaged in prayer: the one offers the prayer, the halva says 'Amen'.

Sprinkle some salt on the roasting heart...

In this snow I do kiss her lips-
for snow and sugar keep the heart fresh.

--after Rumi.

Many guests do I have at my table, but I await the arrival of my friend. In the kitchen I have prepared many sweet dishes, but without her they taste bitter. Much has been burnt...bring me some wine, saki.

It is said: when the Emperor of China dies the porcelain lets down her hair. But when the porcelian lets down her hair, the Emperor dies. These words reach us from a distant land, a strange corner of the universe and are twisted and knotted like your hair in the morning. How strange..it was straight at night!


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