265.
That which is wisest is to seek joy in our hearts in a cup of wine; and not preoccupy ourselves too much with the present or the past; and, finally, were it only for an instant, to free from the shackles of reason that soul which has been loaned us and which groans in its prison.
266.
The moment I shall fly from death, when, like the dry leaves, the particles of my body shall detach themselves from the centers of life, oh, then! with what joy shall I pass across the universe, as through a sieve, before the mason comes to sift my own dust.
267.
That vault of heaven, under which we reel, we might, in thought, liken to a lantern. The universe is the lantern.
The sun represents the light, and we, like the images with which the lantern is ornamented, dwell there in stupefaction.
268.
Thou hast formed me of earth and of water, what can I do? Whether I be wool or silk, it is Thou that hast woven, and what can I do? The good that I do, the evil that I am guilty of, were alike predestined by Thee; what can I do?
269.
O friend, come to me, and let us take no thought of to-day nor to-morrow, but consider our short instant of existence as spoils. To-morrow, when we shall have abandoned this old tent [the world], we shall be the companions of those who left it seven thousand years ago!
270.
Never for a moment be deprived of wine, for it is wine that gives reflection to intelligence, to the heart of man and to religion. If the devil had tasted it for one instant, he would have adored Adam and have made before him thousands of genuflections.
271.
Arise, dance, and we shall clap our hands. Drink to the presence of beauties with the languorous eyes of the narcissus. Happiness is not very great when one has emptied but a score of cups; it is strangely complete when one arrives at the sixtieth.
272.
I have shut upon myself the door of avarice, and am thus free from obligation to those who are men and those who do not merit the name. Since there exists but one friend [God] toward whom I can extend my hand, I am what I am, and that concerns only Him and me.
273.
I am constantly saddened by the motion of this Wheel of the Heavens. I am in revolt against my vile nature.
I have neither enough knowledge to hide myself and not return to the world, nor intelligence enough to live there without preoccupying myself with it.
274.
How many people that I see upon the surface of the earth are plunged in sleep [superstition]! How many I perceive that are already buried in its depths! When I throw my eyes over this desert of Not-being, how many people I see who have not yet come--how many who have already departed!
275.
Thy pity being promised me, I have no fear of sin.
With the provision that Thou possessest, I have no disquiet about the journey. Thy benevolence renders my visage white and of the black book I have no fear.
276.
Be not led to believe that I fear the world, or that I have fear of dying, or of seeing my soul go its way.
Death being a truth, I have no fear of it. What I fear is that I have not lived well.
277.
How long shall we be slaves to reason and to every day? What matters it whether we remain a hundred years in this world, or whether we dwell here but a day?
Go, bring some wine in a bowl before we are transformed into pitchers in the workshop of some potter.
278.
How long will you blame us, O ignorant man of God!
We are the patrons of the tavern, we are constantly overcome with wine. You are given up entirely to your chaplet, to your hypocrisy, and your infernal machinations.
We, cup in hand and always near the object of our love, live in accordance with our desires.
279.
Let us sell the diadem of Khan, the crown of Kai, let us sell it and buy the sound of a flute let us sell the turban and the silken cassock, yea, for a cup of wine let us sell the chaplet which in itself contains naught but hypocrisy.
280.
That day when the juice of the vine does not ferment in my head, the universe could offer me an antidote which would be a poison to me. Yea, sorrow over the things of this world is a poison, and its antidote is wine. I will take the antidote then that I may have no fear of the poison.
281.
How long shall we blush at the injustice of others?
How long shall we burn in the fire of this insipid world?
Arise, banish from thee the sorrow of the world, if thou art a man; to-day is a feast; come, drink rose-colored wine.
282.
I am in continual war with my passions, but what can I do? The memory of my deeds causes me a thousand regrets, but what can I do? I admit that in Thy clemency Thou mayest pardon my faults, but the shame of knowing that Thou knowest what I have done, that shame will remain, and what can I do?