The Pub

I may be a teetotaler, but I'll entice you to drink, 

I'll keep my distance from the cup, but fill yours up to the brink.  

I've discovered this sleight of hand, from those belonging to the elite club, 

I gladly refrain myself, but lead you towards the bar and the pub.   

I'm from that ancestral family, where people drink much,

Its no exaggeration, my blood has turned, into 75 % alcohol as such.

I've every right over the courtyard, where like water flows wine,

It was bought by my forefathers, where we today drink and dine. 

 

For most of the folks its transitory- they are sober in a jiffy,    

That their drinks will last and not spill- the proposition is iffy. 

But the true wine is that which ages with time,

The more you stay in my pub, the more it becomes sublime. 

While praying in pitr paksha, I request you to drink, rather than offer water to Gods,

The more you recite my poems, the more I'll be salvaged- the greater the odds. 

PS: This poem is a humble and creative translation of Shri Harivansh Rai Bachchan's epilogue of his famous poem Madhushala. Apologies in advance, if it hurt your sensibilities.