29 January 2015

O Islão bom  (VIII)


Abu Nuwas

Don't cry for Layla,
don't rave about Hind!
But drink among roses a rose-red wine,
a draught that descends in the drinker's throat,
bestowing its redness on eyes and cheeks.
The wine is a ruby, the glass is a pearl,
served by the hand of a slim-fingered girl,
who serves you the wine from her hand,
and wine from her mouth — doubly drunk, for sure, will you be.
Thus I am drunk twice, my friends only once:
a favor special, for me alone!

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