Intoxicated...

"INTOXICATED from the pure draught [of Divine Knowledge]
Which I had drained to the dregs,

In the bare dust I fell.

Since then I know not if I exist or not,

But I am not sober, neither am I ill or drunken.

Sometimes, like His eye, I am full of joy,

Or, like His curl, I am waving;

Sometimes, alas! from habit or nature,

I am lying on a dust heap.

Sometimes, at a glance from Him,

I am back in the Rose Garden."


Shabistari
in Florence Lederer
_The Secret Rose Garden Of Sa’d Ud Din Mahmūd Shabistarī_
London: J. Murray, 1920, p. 91, at sacred-texts.com