To: abuelita who wrote (1653 ) 1/1/2012 10:26:44 AM From: 2MAR$ Respond to of 1680 your welcome , have always loved the theme of the older man/ younger woman encounter forming this unexpected bond (and the reverse is true as well ) of age & experience desire to share its wisdom to untried youth and both end up supporting the other in some beautiful ways . Happens so rarely these days for so many caught up in the clever sensation of youth , into so often vulgar material & endless cheap display . Was seen in the beginning of the Rubaiyat written 1000yrs ago that begins with the older wiser counciler awakens the slumbering young girl to whisk her off on day's outing to the countryside & talk of life's fleetingness & the race to scheming follies that absorb every soul back in the Sultan's (her father's) teeming palace city . classics.mit.edu He shakes her shoulder to waken her to the dawning day Wake! For the Sun, who scatter'd into flight The Stars before him from the Field of Night, Drives Night along with them from Heav'n, and strikes The Sultan's Turret with a Shaft of Light. A Book of Verses underneath the Bough, A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread--and Thou Beside me singing in the Wilderness-- Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow! Some for the Glories of This World; and some Sigh for the Prophet's Paradise to come; Ah, take the Cash, and let the Credit go, Nor heed the rumble of a distant Drum! Look to the blowing Rose about us--"Lo, Laughing," she says, "into the world I blow, At once the silken tassel of my Purse Tear, and its Treasure on the Garden throw." The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon Turns Ashes--or it prospers; and anon, Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty Face, Lighting a little hour or two--is gone. Think, in this batter'd Caravanserai Whose Portals are alternate Night and Day, How Sultan after Sultan with his Pomp Abode his destined Hour, and went his way. Waste not your Hour, nor in the vain pursuit Of This and That endeavour and dispute; Better be jocund with the fruitful Grape Than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit. Yet Ah, that Spring should vanish with the Rose! That Youth's sweet-scented manuscript should close! The Nightingale that in the branches sang, Ah, whence, and whither flown again, who knows Ah, Love! could you and I with Him conspire To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire, Would not we shatter it to bits--and then Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!