The Atheist

Nor thou, Habib, nor I are glad, 
when rosy limbs and sweat entwine;
But rapture drowns the sense and self,
the wine the drawer of the wine.

And Him that planted first the grape
o podex, in thy vault there dwells
A charm to make the member mad,
And shake the marrow of the spine.

O member, in thy stubborn strength
a power avails on podex sense
To boil the blood in breast and brain;
shudder the nerves incarnadine.

From me thou drawest pearly drink
and in its pouring’s both are drunk.
The Iman drives forth the drunken man
from out the marble prayer shrine.

Blue Mushtari strove with red Mirrikh
which should be master of the night
But where is Mushtari, where Mirrikh
when in the sky the sun doth shine?

Now El Qahar to Hazif gives
the worship unto poets due
But songs are nought and Music all
what poet music may define?

Allah's the atheist he owns
no Allah. Sneer, thou dullard churl,
The Sufi worships not, but drinks,
being himself the all-divine.

Come, my Habib, the roses blush,
the waters gleam, the bulbul sings
To pierce thy podex El Quahar's
urgent and and imminent design.


(Aleister Crowley)