My beloved I once saw
    Around the room pace & dance
Plucking the strings in awe
    Singing in a state of trance

Fingers fiery flame
Playing a song of old fame
Joyous, drunken, and tame
    The night spirits enhance

Stylishly would amuse
Singing was the excuse
Wine was the main news
    As the wine-bearers advance

A bearer of much beauty
The jug was her duty
From a corner mutely
    Made her grand entrance

She filled up the first glass
A drink of molten brass;
Has it ever come to pass
    Water on fire, per chance?

Put the glass in the hand
Of the Lovers, on demand
Prostrate, and then stand
    Kiss the ground with her glance

He withdrew his gaze
Sipped from the wine in daze
The flaming wine would raze
    His flaming head’s resistance

Of his own grace was fed
About good and evil said
Neither lives, nor is dead
    Unlike myself, for instance

Shams upon the world hovers
The Lover of all Lovers
In each instant discovers
    Soul and Spirit in romance.

Ó Shahriar Shahriari
Vancouver, Canada
September 22, 1998