When my hands from brimming cups weakly shook, <br />I awoke, ere sense my wined mind forsook. <br />Shunning choice wines, as rich as purest gold, <br />I, of spring showers silv'ry draught partook.<br /><br />Abu at-Tayyib al-Mutanabbi<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/when-my-hands/
