Classic Poem

Cupbearer, take your wine away,
We need nothing, drunk with love,
Pour it out for the bees and birds,
Give to the earth that bride of yours.

Why look into a cup to find
Love's ecstasy, when here it is?
Leave us be, served by Spring
This is our cup—the air we breathe.

In a quiet space like birds we float,
Like bees that answer to the lure,
Spellbound, of the quiet world
Where roses, fresh, grow from the ground.

Or we are children, two, who play,
Innocent, on slopes above
A lovely rock; of perils deep
Down in the valley, ignorant.

At noon and in the waning light
We sing with winds that cruise through fields;
Revealed to us her spirit now,
To nature's chant we are listening.

Let others be as they might wish,
And welcome: we extract the core,
For we are spirit, out of mind—
Behind us, left for them, the shell.

The rose whose fragrance we inhale,
The wine we have—enough is ours:
Nectar celestial on our lips,
Blooms of Springtime in our heart.

O time that flows, time fathomless,
Without direction, restless world,
O sky without repose that turns
The burning dawns and night about.

O death, O fate that has no eyes,
Stop where you are! Or turn aside,
Let love and dream sing out for us
With vast existence for their theme.

If not, then make away with us
With love still flaming on our lips,
The magic roses fragrant still,
And youth still at our fingertips.