My soul is aging within a dirty cage.

   My life is in pain from youth to age.

Until I hear news that my soul returns;

   I hope there is more written on this page.

…………………………..

To me, sixty-three years, I know, I know not.

   Too many books, drawings to show, I know not.

The more I know, I know more than all is pain;

   Love is I need that I want to grow, I know not.

…………………………..

Of course, there is a blossoming garden there.

   Angels and birds flew there, from everywhere.

Until beloved comes from high above;

   I drink to it because drunks do not care.

…………………………..

Too much to drink, to me, is just a soul food feast.

   That bitter, sweet wine will change man to beast.

No wonder I’m not the man I used to be;

   Pour me another cup to forget, at least.

8/25/16  Haloo Rubaiyat