Stars on my bosom shine
Wept from these eyes of mine:
Lo, beyond heaven’s height;
Cast me the joy of sight;

Soared, though in dust I lay,
High o’er the starry way,—
Life of the ember’s glow
Likes me not, thou dost know.

All the world’s eve and morn
Are of my whirling born;
Thou know’st this’morn and eve
My soul can scarce receive.

Wine brimmed in heaven’s cup;
I took and drank it up;
Saqi! not sparing be—
Another bowl for me!

Not both the worlds suffice
My folly’s avarice;
Earth is a passing day,
Heaven a passage-way.