a new rule

It is the rule with drunkards

to fall upon each other,

to quarrel, become violent,

and make a scene.

The lover is even worse than a drunkard.

I will tell you what love is:

to enter a mine of gold

.And what is that gold?
The lover is a king above all kings,

unafraid of death,

not at all interested in a golden crown.

The dervish has a pearl

concealed under his patched cloak.

Why should he go begging door to door?
Last night that moon came along,

drunk, dropping clothes in the street.

"Get up," I told my heart,

"Give the soul a glass of wine.

The moment has come

to join the nightingale in the garden,

to taste sugar with the soul-parrot."
I have fallen, with my heart shattered

-where else but on your path?

And Ibroke your bowl,

drunk, my idol, so drunk,

don't let me be harmed,

take my hand.
A new rule, a new law has been born:

break all the glasses

and fall toward the glassblower.