ODE TO A CUPPA COFFEE
by Sadiqullah Khan
The stir is the circle of fate
Chewed to remain forever awake
Meditation in mocha before its discovery
From soils in Africa the bean in Arabica
Purity of the romance in walls adored
Mud and water and beans in jute
Down the fingers for the texture
On the nose with eyes closed
Perception of divine yet the beauty
With both hands for the eyes see
Fumes like the hairs of love
Like dusk after the sunset
Eyes twilight
First sip in creamy froth not unlike
In slow heat brewing the cup
Hence from where it is said life began
To the other sip goes the consciousness
Unreason still in unself now
Unfold the variousness in cup small
What mystery when dark of the chocolate
With Havana leaf and glass of smoke
After the wine in third course
It kills with donuts from the hands
Old lady had been for long preserving
Bavarian apple with lemon for buds
Ode to wine and ode to olive
Ode to coffee in ware molded
Made from earth of the Persian soil
Perfected is it in Italia or Gaul
With wine dampened cooked in holy fire
The mystic declares his own rules
My love the many names and flavors
Still brown beans are the hazel of your eyes
This ode I write to the taste of blood
Dried though on luscious lips
From my heart the words I spell
By the last sip of the cup in hand
I have loved you from ages
Like my drunken eyes today
They asked me what tavern last night
What cup in whose hand and who was the love
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