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You who serve the wine, do your job!
Your flask is the color of twilight, your wine
is gold, fluid sunshine. My cup’s the shape
of the crescent moon. Fill it, spilling the wine
over the brim: dawn disperses the cloudy night.
Pain’s the liquid that rims my eyelids.
Look at my luckless heart: it’s broken.
Holding onto the splinters, I can’t release it.
But as soon as it’s burned to ashes, I will.
I knew from the start your promises
were worthless. I made sure to forget them.
We live in a time that specializes
in stingy fate, ungrateful love.
Makhfi, take hold of joy. Anything can happen:
foundations fall apart, fabrics unravel.
The morning breeze evaporates illusion,
breaks through the vault of our vanities.
