Let us sit around narghile
on a bed piled of rose petals and myrtles
and let glasses be filled by Aphrodite’s son.
Lets raise them high
Praising the day before it ends
when we give back the borrowed souls
and we go through the meadows of asphodel
to the far Hades
from where there is no return
For life like fire out quickly burns up.
Then nobody will resurrect us
stacking the mound from scattered bones
and in the eye-sockets only the wind will blow.
So now put fragrances on our bodies
and bring lovers of different complexions
lyres stop inciting to fight
and linger the hum of their love songs
so all the worries will drift away as the night departs.