' The poet says- his tears make him thirsty for onion.'
'Onion with the Divine. That is true wine of the Saqi'
For a mere mirror holding habit turns Saqi e'en thy Christ-white hand
Yet must Wine’s bloodthirst parch khaki- being so blindly poured
Now the dearness of the onion is Democracy's firebrand
How tether Mystic Union Tears’ Mongol horde?