Heaven And Earth by Ghani Khan...

Would there be elation and youth, the beloved and a chalice full;
Several flowers and a few friends in a mellow evening.
Passion be light and fire, and the heart a flaming tandoor;
I would gladly give up your heavens to embrace such a life.
I’d far prefer this gain because no color is at rest;
Each moment, each hue of life, is your time’s helpless slave;
And the mullah says, in paradise, time would be my slave –
If he were somehow undone, all my troubles would end.
If I find eternal youth, it would become a curse;
I cherish it now as its beauty is soon consumed.
An eternally full moon, an eternal sweet sixteen,
Eternal youth, a river of wine, is it a reward or hell?
I’d weep after this world, and yearn for the night’s crescent,
And remember everyday, the thin mist of eventide.
Sick of faithful houris, I’d seek a fickle beloved;
Man is a hunter by nature, and revels in hunting.
I would fast on revelry’s riverside,
And sulk after the cupbearer’s half-full chalice.
Anything eternal becomes a curse and a catastrophe;
It suits only you, this eternal beginning and end.
Man seeks in each new palace a new beloved;
Seeks red flowers in a wasteland, seeks lighting at night;
He’s lost in unending darkness, and blinded by perpetual light;
He is the child of change and cannot stay the same.
If you took him to heaven, this nature and this being,
He’ll soon be searing and weeping with sore eyes.
O lord of great bestowal, turn this world into heaven!
The formula is simple, comprising these three things –
As I’ve said before, a beloved, youth, and a chalice,
So that my silly head is amused from time to time;
And after this worldly death, endow me to the Mullah,
If the wretch would be appeased by mere dreams of houris.
Give me a houri here – lively, full, and fair –
A loving white candle, which burns and flames
In her glance myriad colors; in her nature myriad moods;
With manners such as spring – now sunshine, now rain;
Would she be under one skin, a harem of women;
Now brimming and vivacious, now quiet and retiring;
And in my tired heart, kindle restive flames,
Blazing like fire and dancing like a rill,
And with one impatient glance, intoxicate me so
As to leave everyone amazed and the cupbearer envious.
In place of those thousands give me one here;
Turn my eternal youth to a few years’ rejoicing;
If you cannot do this, lord, keep your fat houris;
I neither need them there nor miss them here.
Those fat and fair ones who yield without entreaty;
Wide and hungry eyes, wallowing in malmal.
Lord! My beloved lord! Just grant this one prayer,
Or else, your Ghani would pine away in love...