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Chapter 4

8. O honey boy! Bring me Thy cool limbs hither! Let us sit awhile in the orchard, until the sun go down! Let us feast on the cool grass! Bring wine, ye slaves, that the cheeks of my boy may flush red.
    9. In the garden of immortal kisses, O thou brilliant One, shine forth! Make Thy mouth an opium-poppy, that one kiss is the key to the infinite sleep and lucid, the sleep of Shi-loh-am.
    10. In my sleep I beheld the Universe like a clear crystal without one speck.
    11. There are purse-proud penniless ones that stand at the door of the tavern and prate of their feats of wine-bibbing.
    12. There are purse-proud penniless ones that stand at the door of the tavern and revile the guests.
    13. The guests dally upon couches of mother-of-pearl in the garden; the noise of the foolish men is hidden from them.
    14. Only the inn-keeper feareth lest the favour of the king be withdrawn from him.

Notes