Mystic Union and the price of onions.

' The poet says- his tears make him thirsty for onion.'

'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?