In the Courtyard of the Wayfarer's Inn / Two

For ages now, I dwell within the temple. Why then in confusion do I lock the door and yearn for the very freedom I deny?
In that temple, building rooms, I veil my chosen deity—by what vow? Seeking myself,
I plunder my own treasures, become prisoner within four walls, yet dream of liberation!
I no longer understand these intoxications. Friend, come now to the tavern, let us be slain by the wine of living!

When sorrow adds its weight, shed no tears—they will only increase the burden.
In the misty courtyard where sunlight sleeps, come there, come and take my hand,
restore the kingdom lost for want of a king,
in this auspicious moment, drink wine and keep that heart awakened.
God dwells in wine's melody, in the cup of intoxication—only the faithful find Him there.
In wine's countless variations taste differs endlessly; only the drinker truly knows which vintage moves the soul and how.
Some are drawn to honey, others to wine; some float in harmony, others in discord,
in tune or out of tune, wherever they drift, however much, life measures exactly that much before death withdraws!
When you open the tavern, what is the mistake, tell me? If you don't drink, at least look upon the wine, fill your eyes and anoint them with dreams,
bind your heart in wine's chains, let the mind seek only wine, dance only in wine,
become a slave and victory comes in the wine-bowl! The cupbearer arrives saying,
"Friend, now this world is yours! Turn your gaze, claim your share, lose it in an instant!"
In a green chamber, in wine's stupor, the pilgrim of light was bound,
in the golden glow of suffering's lamp he brought chains of joy's design.
Heaven comes from the very road—in the god's house there is only deception!
Hold the heart, read the heart, understand the heart—you will find heaven!
The chariot of joy, losing its way, comes year after year down crooked alleys,
the garland that burns in tears, string it again with flowers of happiness.
Walk the earth, look into the distance—how deceptive are all things near!
To soothe fatigue, to end exhaustion, to drown sorrow, keep secretly a fountain drunk on fleeting joy!
In the moment when that intoxicated hour was breaking, someone came and gave wine.........
Not the cupbearer, but another person; perhaps that's why the wine's taste turned muddy and earthen!
Some people I see, living happily! Some people I see, unhappily not dying!
Whatever spreads laughing in the guest house courtyard, in that intoxication alone, in that unknown land, life's ferry merges with melody!
That house of wine, keep it in your heart's center, warm yourself when the divine breaks in cold nights.
Fill your clay body with light, anoint your mind's friend with honey, spread your vision wide, carefully preserve the road's jewels.
The temple today is crowded, alas, yet no one is there! So there is no prayer, no offering either.
Crush the palace and scatter grace, break sleep, let light come, let the soul awaken, let the household rejoice.
Think of me—not as you see me, but as I could have been wonderfully, in that way!
Understand people by understanding the heart, seek joy by seeking sorrow, revel in light by wrestling darkness.
Friend, call me no more to the tavern, now life seems so weary when I look upon it!
The god who lives outside, don't keep him alive within your mind any longer.
When the sun drips honey, the ocean barely spreads—water recedes, land expands,
wine in hand I watch the clouds, and they, seeing me, seizing the moment become cupbearers, in honey's current a honey harvest—who understood this!
After the rains take wine, fill your dried heart with wine, dance to the cupbearer's rhythm in whim—this is life!
Know, friend, hunger's fire is never quenched by flowers!
When the rains come, set fire to the granary of rice—you will find peace.
In prayers that make the stars weep, in cups where honey crystallizes—
make the ocean dance with such prayers, pour nectar into such cups with oceanic overflow.
Awaken, cupbearer, sleep no more; look and see how much thirst has gathered at your door!
Heaven descends upon this very shore, the earth pauses—by what gesture does it lean against the sand? Come to understand!
On some lips I see poison-cups transform into nectar; on others, nectar poured becomes pure venom.
What fault lies in wine if, at the body's touch, the mind's thirst is quenched only by poison?
No one else but the cupbearer can pour wine like nectar,
the eyes' destination lies not in sight—but in the cupbearer's magic, in wine's honey.
The sapling you plant today will tomorrow spread its sweet shade.
Prepare the cup today—tomorrow that cup will be adorned with wine in shadow's rosewater.
How many variations of desire float by, and in those variations comes honey or wine—
both are the same—intoxication belongs to whoever finds it wherever, whoever laughs in whatever!
Fulfillment is like a cup full of tea—each cup equally magical in drawing the lips...
Such drinking suddenly makes one drunk, raising doubt—is this not wrong?
Those who possess mines of nectar, with distant gems crowning their peaks—everyone runs to them. I see them
setting out each day from dawn at the cupbearer's call, in sleep's intervals, anointing themselves with day's first ray, descending the path of intoxication daily.
When old intoxication breaks and new ones come to build kingdoms,
life's anger, the debt of living—everything ends.
Is lamentation poison? One by one everything comes in what descent—of intoxication?
When even the sun sleeps, then awakens the courtyard of the wayfarer's inn!
Who takes wine, only they understand the price of light!
When darkness comes, floods of honey, monsoons of melody, cascades of wine,
let light not come—no harm done; let darkness descend throughout this room.
When nothing comes, nothing follows! Let darkness come—when darkness comes, light will follow.
Looking back, I see from where came what light surrounding me!
I looked back, by what magic of unknown light were my eyes dazzled,
having no path I seek the path, having no joy I ferment sorrow,
someone seems to come along a single road, before my eyes day and night that very path smiles.
What happened today! The cup of drinking overflows, dancing in life's fire!
In life's debt, death gives birth; in the urgency of living, dwelling in death—the trembling of melody and wine's bridge—such is life!
Today steady the cup at the cupbearer's invitation, play life in the night's invitation.
Dream procession! At its head the merchant's vina's eternal signal! Seeing it, don't go blind—understand and run!
If you must give pain, give it to yourself—no one becomes dearer than that, no one grants such privilege,
burn yourself before the burning, become drunk out of season to bring the season,
all the lost pictures of the mind, keep them carefully hidden, keep the virtuous heart gray to avoid applying color.
When distant city's melodious dreams intoxicate, who stays home in silent death, in sleep's stupor, pushing away light?
Know that sweet grape that burns becoming wine burns just so, as ice burns fire!
Who understands the motionless river's pain? The heart that sees raises waves; in the river's sorrow that heart is deceived, dreams bind to the river's very life.
I see fire-particle's swagger in the cupbearer's eyes, on wine's lips—such particles soak ice!
What magic in that moonfire? What shadow in that melody's assembly? Time passes... yet I know, life goes on!
The heart too has a heart—made of blood.
The hero's heart is a fountain of melody—flows unknowingly onward.
The cupbearer's heart understands wine—seeks thirst in that profound knowledge.
Whether love or hatred burns someone—such a person, I know, casually wears chains just to be free!
When loved well, shame flees, courage advances; even broken dreams preserve themselves in dreams.
Whether prayer or curse—both survive in the heart's altar!
In which corner of this world does the mind's longing find place? Only one cupbearer knows what melody means in which wine!
The pure love's secret dwelling keeps the soul in past virtue—that soul lives in hopeless hope!