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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=374740" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I<br> AWAKE! for Morning in the Bowl of Night<br> Has flung the Stone that puts the Stars to Flight:<br> And Lo! the Hunter of the East has caught<br> The Sultan's Turret in a Noose of Light.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">II<br> Dreaming when Dawn's Left Hand was in the Sky<br> I heard a Voice within the Tavern cry,<br> "Awake, my Little ones, and fill the Cup<br> Before Life's Liquor in its Cup be dry."</div><div style="margin:10px 0">III<br> And, as the Cock crew, those who stood before<br> The Tavern shouted--"Open then the Door!<br> You know how little while we have to stay,<br> And, once departed, may return no more."</div><div style="margin:10px 0">IV</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Now the New Year reviving old Desires,<br> The thoughtful Soul to Solitude retires,<br> Where the WHITE HAND OF MOSES on the Bough<br> Puts out, and Jesus from the Ground suspires.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">V</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Irám indeed is gone with all its Rose,<br> And Jamsh{'y}d's Sev'n-ring'd Cup where no one knows;<br> But still the Vine her ancient Ruby yields,<br> And still a Garden by the Water blows. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">VI</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> And David's Lips are lock't; but in divine<br> High piping Pehleví, with "Wine! Wine! Wine!<br> Red Wine!"--the Nightingale cries to the Rose<br> That yellow Cheek of hers to' incarnadine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VII</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring<br> The Winter Garment of Repentance fling:<br> The Bird of Time has but a little way<br> To fly--and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VIII</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> And look--a thousand Blossoms with the Day<br> Woke--and a thousand scatter'd into Clay: <br> And this first Summer Month that brings the Rose<br> Shall take Jamsh{'y}d and Kaikobád away.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">IX</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> But come with old Khayyám, and leave the Lot<br> Of Kaikobád and Kaikhosrú forgot:<br> Let Rustum lay about him as he will,<br> Or Hátim Tai cry Supper--heed them not.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">X</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> With me along some Strip of Herbage strown<br> That just divides the desert from the sown,<br> Where name of Slave and Sultán scarce is known,<br> And pity Sultán Mahmúd on his Throne.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XI</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,<br> A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse--and Thou<br> Beside me singing in the Wilderness--<br> And Wilderness is Paradise enow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XII</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> "How sweet is mortal Sovranty!"--think some:<br> Others--"How blest the Paradise to come!"<br> Ah, take the Cash in hand and wave the Rest;<br> Oh, the brave Music of a distant Drum!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XIII</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Look to the Rose that blows about us--"Lo,<br> Laughing," she says, "into the World I blow:<br> At once the silken Tassel of my Purse<br> Tear, and its Treasure on the Garden throw."</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XIV</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon<br> Turns Ashes--or it prospers; and anon,<br> Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty Face<br> Lighting a little Hour or two--is gone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XV</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> And those who husbanded the Golden Grain,<br> And those who flung it to the Winds like Rain,<br> Alike to no such aureate Earth are turn'd<br> As, buried once, Men want dug up again.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XVI</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Think, in this batter'd Caravanserai<br> Whose Doorways are alternate Night and Day,<br> How Sultán after Sultán with his Pomp<br> Abode his Hour or two, and went his way.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XVII</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> They say the Lion and the Lizard keep<br> The Courts where Jamsh{'y}d gloried and drank deep:<br> And Bahrám, that great Hunter--the Wild Ass<br> Stamps o'er his Head, and he lies fast asleep.<br>XVIII</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> I sometimes think that never blows so red<br> The Rose as where some buried Cæsar bled;<br> That every Hyacinth the Garden wears<br> Dropt in its Lap from some once lovely Head.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XIX</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> And this delightful Herb whose tender Green<br> Fledges the River's Lip on which we lean--<br> Ah, lean upon it lightly! for who knows<br> From what once lovely Lip it springs unseen!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XX</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Ah, my Beloved, fill the Cup that clears<br> TO-DAY of past Regrets and future Fears--<br> To-morrow?--Why, To-morrow I may be<br> Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n Thousand Years.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXI</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Lo! some we lov'd, the loveliest and best<br> That Time and Fate of all their Vintage prest,<br> Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before,<br> And one by one crept silently to Rest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXII</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> And we, that now make merry in the Room<br> They left, and Summer dresses in new Bloom,<br> Ourselves must we beneath the Couch of Earth<br> Descend, ourselves to make a Couch--for whom?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXIII</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,<br> Before we too into the Dust descend;<br> Dust into Dust, and under Dust, to lie,<br> Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and--sans End!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXIV</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Alike for those who for TO-DAY prepare,<br> And those that after a TO-MORROW stare,<br> A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries<br> "Fools! your Reward is neither Here nor There!"</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXV</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Why, all the Saints and Sages who discuss'd<br> Of the Two Worlds so learnedly are thrust<br> Like foolish Prophets forth; their Words to Scorn<br> Are scatter'd, and their Mouths are stopt with Dust. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXVI</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Oh, come with old Khayyám, and leave the Wise<br> To talk; one thing is certain, that Life flies;<br> One thing is certain, and the Rest is Lies;<br> The Flower that once has blown for ever dies.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXVII</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Myself when young did eagerly frequent<br> Doctor and Saint, and heard great Argument<br> About it and about: but evermore<br> Came out by the same Door as in I went.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXVIII</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> With them the Seed of Wisdom did I sow,<br> And with my own hand labour'd it to grow:<br> And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd--<br> "I came like Water, and like Wind I go."</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXIX</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Into this Universe, and why not knowing,<br> Nor whence like Water willy-nilly flowing:<br> And out of it, as Wind along the Waste,<br> I know not whither willy-nilly blowing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXX</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> What, without asking, hither hurried whence?<br> And, without asking, whither hurried hence!<br> Another and another Cup to drown<br> The Memory of this Impertinence!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXI</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Up from Earth's Centre through the Seventh Gate<br> I rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate,<br> And many Knots unravel'd by the Road;<br> But not the Knot of Human Death and Fate.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXII</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> There was a Door to which I found no Key:<br> There was a Veil past which I could not see:<br> Some little Talk awhile of ME and THEE<br> There seem'd--and then no more of THEE and ME.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXIII</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Then to the rolling Heav'n itself I cried,<br> Asking, "What Lamp had Destiny to guide <br> Her little Children stumbling in the Dark?"<br> And--"A blind Understanding!" Heav'n replied.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXIV</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Then to this earthen Bowl did I adjourn<br> My Lip the secret Well of Life to learn:<br> And Lip to Lip it murmur'd--"While you live<br> Drink!--for once dead you never shall return."</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXV</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> I think the Vessel, that with fugitive<br> Articulation answer'd, once did live,<br> And merry-make; and the cold Lip I kiss'd<br> How many Kisses might it take--and give!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXVI</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> For in the Market-place, one Dusk of Day,<br> I watch'd the Potter thumping his wet Clay:<br> And with its all obliterated Tongue<br> It murmur'd--"Gently, Brother, gently, pray!"</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXVII</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Ah, fill the Cup:--what boots it to repeat<br> How Time is slipping underneath our Feet:<br> Unborn TO-MORROW, and dead YESTERDAY,<br> Why fret about them if TO-DAY be sweet!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXVIII</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> One Moment in Annihilation's Waste,<br> One Moment, of the Well of Life to taste--<br> The Stars are setting and the Caravan<br> Starts for the Dawn of Nothing--Oh, make haste!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXIX</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> How long, how long, in infinite Pursuit<br> Of This and That endeavour and dispute?<br> Better be merry with the fruitful Grape<br> Than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XL</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> You know, my Friends, how long since in my House<br> For a new Marriage I did make Carouse:<br> Divorc'd old barren Reason from my Bed,<br> And took the Daughter of the Vine to Spouse.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XLI</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> For "Is" and "IS-NOT" though with Rule and Line,<br> And "UP-AND-DOWN" without I could define,<br> I yet in all I only cared to know,<br> Was never deep in anything but--Wine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XLII</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> And lately, by the Tavern Door agape,<br> Came stealing through the Dusk an Angel Shape<br> Bearing a Vessel on his Shoulder; and<br> He bid me taste of it; and 'twas--the Grape!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XLIII</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> The Grape that can with Logic absolute<br> The Two-and-Seventy jarring Sects confute:<br> The subtle Alchemist that in a Trice<br> Life's leaden Metal into Gold transmute:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XLIV</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> The mighty Mahmúd, the victorious Lord,<br> That all the misbelieving and black Horde<br> Of Fears and Sorrows that infest the Soul<br> Scatters and slays with his enchanted Sword.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XLV</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> But leave the Wise to wrangle, and with me<br> The Quarrel of the Universe let be:<br> And, in some corner of the Hubbub coucht,<br> Make Game of that which makes as much of Thee.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XLVI</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> For in and out, above, about, below,<br> 'Tis nothing but a Magic Shadow-show,<br> Play'd in a Box whose Candle is the Sun,<br> Round which we Phantom Figures come and go.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XLVII</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> And if the Wine you drink, the Lip you press,<br> End in the Nothing all Things end in--Yes--<br> Then fancy while Thou art, Thou art but what<br> Thou shalt be--Nothing--Thou shalt not be less.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XLVIII</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> While the Rose blows along the River Brink,<br> With old Khayyám the Ruby Vintage drink:<br> And when the Angel with his darker Draught<br> Draws up to Thee--take that, and do not shrink.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XLIX</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> 'Tis all a Chequer-board of Nights and Days<br> Where Destiny with Men for Pieces plays:<br> Hither and thither moves, and mates, and slays,<br> And one by one back in the Closet lays.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">L</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> The Ball no Question makes of Ayes and Noes,<br> But Right or Left as strikes the Player goes;<br> And He that toss'd Thee down into the Field,<br> He knows about it all--HE knows--HE knows!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LI</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,<br> Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit<br> Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,<br> Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LII</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> And that inverted Bowl we call The Sky,<br> Whereunder crawling coop't we live and die,<br> Lift not thy hands to It for help--for It<br> Rolls impotently on as Thou or I.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LIII</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> With Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man's knead,<br> And then of the Last Harvest sow'd the Seed:<br> Yea, the first Morning of Creation wrote<br> What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LIV</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> I tell Thee this--When, starting from the Goal,<br> Over the shoulders of the flaming Foal<br> Of Heav'n Parwín and Mushtara they flung,<br> In my predestin'd Plot of Dust and Soul</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LV</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> The Vine had struck a Fibre; which about<br> If clings my Being--let the Súfi flout;<br> Of my Base Metal may be fil'd a Key<br> That shall unlock the Door he howls without.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LVI</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> And this I know: whether the one True Light<br> Kindle to Love, or Wrath consume me quite,<br> One Glimpse of It within the Tavern caught<br> Better than in the Temple lost outright.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LVII</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Oh Thou, who didst with Pitfall and with Gin<br> Beset the Road I was to wander in,<br> Thou wilt not with Predestination round<br> Enmesh me, and impute my Fall to Sin?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LVIII</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Oh, Thou, who Man of baser Earth didst make,<br> And who with Eden didst devise the Snake;<br> For all the Sin wherewith the Face of Man<br> Is blacken'd, Man's Forgiveness give--and take!<br> KÚZA-NÁMALIX</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Listen again. One Evening at the Close<br> Of Ramazán, ere the better Moon arose,<br> In that old Potter's Shop I stood alone<br> With the clay Population round in Rows.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LX</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> And, strange to tell, among that Earthen Lot<br> Some could articulate, while others not:<br> And suddenly one more impatient cried--<br> "Who is the Potter, pray, and who the Pot?"</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXI</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Then said another--"Surely not in vain<br> My Substance from the common Earth was ta'en,<br> That He who subtly wrought me into Shape<br> Should stamp me back to common Earth again."</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXII</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Another said--"Why, ne'er a peevish Boy<br> Would break the Bowl from which he drank in Joy;<br> Shall He that made the Vessel in pure Love<br> And Fancy, in an after Rage destroy!"</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXIII</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> None answer'd this; but after Silence spake<br> A Vessel of a more ungainly Make: <br> "They sneer at me for leaning all awry;<br> What! did the Hand then of the Potter shake?"</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXIV</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Said one--"Folks of a surly Tapster tell,<br> And daub his Visage with the Smoke of Hell;<br> They talk of some strict Testing of us--Pish!<br> He's a Good Fellow, and 'twill all be well."</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXV</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Then said another with a long-drawn Sigh,<br> "My Clay with long oblivion is gone dry:<br> But, fill me with the old familiar Juice,<br> Methinks I might recover by-and-bye!"</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXVI</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> So while the Vessels one by one were speaking,<br> One spied the little Crescent all were seeking:<br> And then they jogg'd each other, "Brother! Brother!<br> Hark to the Porter's Shoulder-knot a-creaking!"</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXVII</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Ah, with the Grape my fading Life provide,<br> And wash my Body whence the Life has died,<br> And in a Windingsheet of Vine-leaf wrapt,<br> So bury me by some sweet Garden-side.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXVIII</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> That ev'n my buried Ashes such a Snare<br> Of Perfume shall fling up into the Air,<br> As not a True Believer passing by<br> But shall be overtaken unaware.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXIX</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Indeed the Idols I have lov'd so long<br> Have done my Credit in Men's Eye much wrong:<br> Have drown'd my Honour in a shallow Cup,<br> And sold my Reputation for a Song.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXX</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Indeed, indeed, Repentance oft before<br> I swore--but was I sober when I swore?<br> And then and then came Spring, and Rose-in-hand<br> My thread-bare Penitence apieces tore.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXXI</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> And much as Wine has play'd the Infidel,<br> And robb'd me of my Robe of Honour--well<br> I often wonder what the Vintners buy<br> One half so precious as the Goods they sell.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXXII</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Alas, that Spring should vanish with the Rose!<br> That Youth's sweet-scented Manuscript should close!<br> The Nightingale that in the Branches sang,<br> Ah, whence, and whither flown again, who knows!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXXIII</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Ah Love! could thou and I with Fate conspire<br> To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,<br> Would not we shatter it to bits--and then<br> Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXXIV</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Ah, Moon of my Delight who know'st no wane,<br> The Moon of Heav'n is rising once again:<br> How oft hereafter rising shall she look<br> Through this same Garden after me in vain!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXXV</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> And when Thyself with shining Foot shall pass<br> Among the Guests Star-scatter'd on the Grass<br> And in thy joyous Errand reach the Spot<br> Where I made one--turn down an empty Glass!TAMÁM SHUD</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Edward+Fitzgerald">Edward Fitzgerald</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=374740" data-title="Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám de Edward Fitzgerald" data-description="I AWAKE! for Morning in the Bowl of Night Has flung the Stone that puts the Stars to Flight: And Lo! the Hunter of the East has caught The Sultan's Turret in a Noose of Light. II Dreaming when Dawn's Left Hand was in the Sky I heard a Voice..."></div> </div> </div>
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