What long-dead face makes here the grass so green?
On what earth-buried bosom do we lean?
Ah! Love, when we in turn are grass and flowers,
By what kind eyes to come shall we be seen?

Le Gallienne

or,
Down fall the tears from skies enwrapt in gloom,
Without this drink, the flowers could never bloom!
As now these flowerets yield delight to me,
So shall my dust yield flowers – God knows for whom.
Whinfield
or,
When clouds come and shower the tulips at Nowruz
Get up and resolve not to give up wine;
For the grass in the meadow that you enjoy today
Will be growing on your grave tomorrow.
Clouds came and wept over the meadow;
What would life be without the rose-hued wine?
For this meadow that we enjoy in our outing today,
Who knows who will enjoy the meadow that will cover our grave tomorrow?We shall be equal to all the seven thousand year olds!
Karim Emami