Sign in to enhance your reading experience
Sign in to continue reading.
Look! It is the time of autumn, and the wind is blowing; the leaves, crisp and yellow, are preparing their adieu. Now look again! The dervish has stopped whirling and is on his knees; the wine in his cup is finished, and the Saki has left.
He has retired to his lodge where the wind is teasing the candle’s flame. He cannot go back to fill the cups: he has become intoxicated by the sight of spinning. Who has the eyes to look into his heart and say if he