The Poppy
By Duse Mohamed Ali
I drank of the juice of the poppy,
The juice on your ruby lip
That fount of intoxication
From which you have let me sip
But leagues and leagues divide us,
Thought I yearn like the thirsty soul,
The soul in the arid desert
Who pants for the water bowl
How long must I bear this parting?
How long shall the thirsting be
Era the juice of that ruddy poppy
Be once more given to me?
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