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So I be written in the Book of Love,
I have no care about that book above;
Erase my name, or write it, as you please—
So I be written in the Book of Love.
What care I, love, for what the Sufis say?
The Sufis are but drunk another way;
So you be drunk, it matters not the means,
So you be drunk—and glorify your clay.
Drunken myself, and with a merry mind,
An old man passed me, all in vine-leaves twined;
I said, "Old man, hast thou forgotten God?"
"Go, drink yourself," he said, "for God is kind."
"Did God set grapes a-growing, do you think,
And at the same time make it sin to drink?
Give thanks to Him who foreordained it thus—
Surely He loves to hear the glasses clink!"
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