When I take in my hand a cup of wine and, in the
When I take in my hand a cup of wine and, in the
joy of my soul, become intoxicate, then, in that state of
fire which devours me, I see a hundred miracles grow
real, and words, clear as the most limpid water, come to
explain the mystery of all things.
283
Poem by
Omar Khayyam
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