The fast is ended, now begins the feast.
Old tyrants fall like bread that has no yeast.
Is this the dawning of a Golden Age?
Be still, my soul: This is the Middle East.
Over the flowing lakes of oil, the hand
Of Allah laid a waste of barren sand,
And over that a multitude of men
Who hate each other to share out the land.
The Scourge of Libya on his tarnished throne
Derides all nations and destroys his own.
Is there a chance, when saints and sages die,
That even madmen may be overthrown?
The world grows old, its empires decline,
And many visions wither on the vine.
Is this the dawn or sunset that we see?
Saki, spread up my couch, and pass the wine.
|
Threaded Mode
