The celebration

It began as a meal. And it turned into a feast;

you'd hardly know how.

The high flames torched up, the voices flew about,

confused songs clattered out of glass and brightness,

and finally out of the ripened measures:

the dance emerged. And it swept everyone along with it.

What a crashing of waves there was in the halls,

what a meeting each other, choosing each other,

saying of good-byes and finding each other again,

reveling in the bright lights and being blinded by lights

and swaying in the summer winds

that are in the dresses of warm women.

Out of dark wine and a thousand roses

the hour pours itself roaringly into the dream of the night.