O Wine, Pour for Me and Call it Wine
The poet Abu Nuwas articulates his appreciation of wine in the following verses:
O wine, pour for me, and tell me: this is indeed wine,
Do not serve me in secret if public enjoyment is possible.
For life is but a series of intoxications, each followed by another,
And if this continues too long, time itself becomes short.
As for the loss, it is only when you see me sober,
And the gain lies in being lost in the ecstasy of intoxication.
So speak openly of your beloved, and spare me the veils,
For there is no joy in pleasures without her embrace.
Nor is there pleasure in revelry devoid of disregard;
And there is no frivolity that does not lead to disbelief.
With every reckless companion, it is as though his brow
Is a crescent moon, surrounded by blooming stars.
And I awoke a tavern keeper after a resting spell,
When the Pleiades vanished and the eagle soared.
She asked: who are the visitors? We replied: a group
Of charming young men, seeking for themselves some wine.
They must weigh it, she remarked: or the ransom
Would be a shining coin, the kind that reflects in its shine.
So we told her: Bring it forth, for we are not patient enough
To let our families bear such a burden of waiting.
She came with it like a full moon on a completed night,
Making it seem as though it were magical, even though it holds no sorcery.
So we approached it one by one,
With it breaking our fast like the first meal after Ramadan.
And God saw us as the worst of groups,
Dragging the tails of debauchery without pride.
Refrain from Blaming Me as Blame Invites Temptation
In response to his critics for indulging in wine, he expresses:
Refrain from blaming me, for blame invites temptation,
Heal me with the very thing that caused my ailment.
A yellow drink that does not allow sorrows to linger,
Even if a stone touched it, it would feel joyful.
A drink from a graceful hand, adorned with sophistication,
Two lovers joined, one a charming youth and the other a melodious voice.
As she poured from the pitcher, and the night was overshadowed,
A brightness radiated from her face within the house.
She sent forth a clear liquid from the mouth of the pitcher,
As though she had captured its essence through a bewitching gaze.
It became delicate, unlike water in its purity,
And if you mixed it with light, it would birth radiance and brilliance.
It revolved around youthful men at their prime,
So that whatever befalls them is only what they desire.
To that, I weep, yet I shed no tears for the place
Once graced by Hind and Asma.
Except for the pearl, tents erected for her,
As camels and flocks drift across her.
Tell those who claim knowledge of philosophy,
You’ve retained some, yet much remains hidden from you.
Do not selfishly withhold forgiveness if you are a man of grace,
For your forbiddance in religion is an act of disdain.
I Seek Refuge in You from Demise
He wrote while imprisoned, seeking refuge from Muhammad Amin in the following lines:
In You, I seek refuge from demise,
And I seek protection from the overwhelming grasp of hardships.
And I would not wish for life of mere existence,
Not even for instances like yours, focusing on survival.
Who would be the father of Nuwas
If you were to bring about the end of Abu Nuwas?
O Lord, Even If My Sins are Great
Before his passing, he composed this reflection on asceticism:
O Lord, if my sins are extensive,
I am aware that Your mercy is even greater.
If only the virtuous would call upon You,
Then who is it that invites and hopes for the transgressor?
I call You, my Lord, as You commanded, in humility.
So if You turn back my hand, who would show mercy then?
I possess no means to reach You save for hope,
And in Your exquisite forgiveness, verily I am submissive.
My Weeping for the House Has Extended
He lamented about wine and merriment:
My weeping for the homes has lingered long,
And so has my wandering through them and my distress.
As if I were a hunted animal in those abodes,
I see them before me now, and see them behind me.
When despair set in, I counted my camel,
I departed from the house, and my consolation overwhelmed me.
To the house of a tavern where the dogs do not bark,
And where my prolonged absence is not seen as troublesome.
For if the amber yields to my yearning,
It will not lead me astray from my modesty and dignified restraint.
What I sought did not return until reaching for what it held,
In the grip of my hand until its restraint encircled my feet and sandals.
A cup like the rising stars of the skies, I drank from it,
As if there were a promise of meeting or a call upon my soul.
Time passed by, like illuminating rays from the heavens,
Its brightness visible even when covered with veils.
Blessed is He who governs the affairs of creation with His knowledge,
And favored Harun over the leaders of his people.
We live well as long as we maintain piety,
And while Abu al-Umanā governs our world.
A leader who fears God, as though he is expecting his vision every morning and evening,
Long and well-muscled arms, as if he holds the banners of victory over his sword.
Do Not Take Delight in the Lives of the Bedouins
He also captures the essence of wine in these lines:
Let the southern winds sweep away the ruins,
And let events wear away the memory of former glories.
And grant the rider of the deserted land a place,
To traverse it along with the noble and the noble steed.
It’s a land where ten percent forms the growth,
And the most she pursued were foxes and wolves.
Do not take pleasure in the lifestyle of the desert dwellers,
For their existence is barren and lifeless.
Let the rich enjoy their milk,
For one living among them is viewed as strange.
If the milk curdles, pour upon it,
And do not feel ashamed, for in that there is no sin.
For nothing is finer than pure and clear wine,
Poured with a graceful touch by an educated servant
Who brings the cup, shining like the midday sun,
To soothe the souls of companions through its delight.
She remained for a time within the depths of a flask,
Boiling, without anyone feeling its fervor.
As if the roar coming from it resembled
The voice towards the cross.
It extends to you like the hands of a young boy,
Sing-song, as if he were the tenderest of fawns.
Nurtured by the craft of nurses until he blossoms,
With charms and fragrances all around him.
It guides you along if you partake of it,
And unlocks the knots in its silky fibers.
And if you waste it, it captivates you with
Delights that can soften the hardest hearts.
He leans over, and when he walks,
He sways, dressed in luxurious silk.
He seems to melt away, leaving you perplexed,
When his glance finds yours, it fades within you.
Do not scold me, for I can no longer bear your blame,
Since my repentance is already lost with me.
You criticize the sins; what boy, I ask,
Among the youth is free of his own transgressions?
This is life; there are no tents in the desert,
And this is a life unlike any plain milk.
So where is the Bedouin compared to the grand halls of Kisra,
And where are their festive gatherings compared to the grand avenues?
You have played tricks with my repentance, and you have sunk me deeper,
So today, rip your garment; I shall not repent anymore.