1. In a garden we dwell, whose streams we sip
Along banks like a burnished sword's slip.

2. The sun has honed its blade through leaves' grip,
Renewing its slick and polished equip.

3. Wine circles the bowl, sweetness takes grip,
Loosing some knots, while others re-knit.

4. Its being in this low world brings decay,
Its strength with nights ever re-equipped.

5. When water plunges through fire's angry lip,
It brings forth pearls in a matrix well-stripped.

6. Oh, the first vine's juice - what a draught!
The world drinks till feet fail and hands lose grip.

7. The garden revives when watered true
By a mender of clouds, no harm accrued.

8. We wore the shade's robes, markings eschewed,
Rays stitched like embroidery subdued.

9. Saw oranges on branches wind blew,
Tousling green, the fruits nod and exude

10. Ruby globes on threads of agate hued,
Cascading garlands of aquamarine renewed.

11. The lights seem wicks new-wicked, imbued
With oil of dew, flickering exude.

12. The breeze seems to spread through the leas
Whispered secrets of shrubs sub-accrued.

13. Where we're served joy's cups and voices imbrued,
Trilled notes or moans our ears accrued -

14. Chirps you've heard of sparrow, lark, cuckoo?
Songs of nightingale, hoopoe, wild brood.

15. Warblers greeting the branches, bowed to
Dawn's zephyrs, prostrate in worship renewed.

16. Such were we, and time of manners more crude,
With dreams in wilds, friendship's fibers extruded.

17. My youth in my cloak, as if I'm the shoot
In wind's hand, bending as zephyrs intrude.