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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=472712" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Translated into English in 1859 by Edward FitzGerald</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.<br>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.<br>Iram indeed is gone with all its Rose,<br>And Jamshyd'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.<br>And David's Lips are lock't; but in divine<br>High piping Pehlevi, 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.<br>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.<br>Whether at Naishapur or Babylon,<br>Whether the Cup with sweet or bitter run,<br>The Wine of Life keeps oozing drop by drop,<br>The Leaves of Life kep falling one by one. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">IX.<br>Morning a thousand Roses brings, you say;<br>Yes, but where leaves the Rose of Yesterday?<br>And this first Summer month that brings the Rose<br>Shall take Jamshyd and Kaikobad away. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">X.<br>But come with old Khayyam, and leave the Lot<br>Of Kaikobad and Kaikhosru forgot:<br>Let Rustum lay about him as he will,<br>Or Hatim Tai cry Supper -- heed them not. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">XI.<br>With me along the strip of Herbage strown<br>That just divides the desert from the sown,<br>Where name of Slave and Sultan is forgot --<br>And Peace is Mahmud on his Golden Throne! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">XII.<br>A Book of Verses underneath the Bough,<br>A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread, -- and Thou<br>Beside me singing in the Wilderness --<br>Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">XIII.<br>Some for the Glories of This World; and some<br>Sigh for the Prophet's Paradise to come;<br>Ah, take the Cash, and let the Promise go,<br>Nor heed the rumble of a distant Drum! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">XIV.<br>Were it not Folly, Spider-like to spin<br>The Thread of present Life away to win --<br>What? for ourselves, who know not if we shall<br>Breathe out the very Breath we now breathe in! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">XV.<br>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">XVI.<br>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">XVII.<br>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">XVIII.<br>Think, in this batter'd Caravanserai<br>Whose Doorways are alternate Night and Day,<br>How Sultan after Sultan with his Pomp<br>Abode his Hour or two and went his way. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">XIX.<br>They say the Lion and the Lizard keep<br>The Courts where Jamshyd gloried and drank deep:<br>And Bahram, that great Hunter -- the Wild Ass<br>Stamps o'er his Head, but cannot break his Sleep. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">XX.<br>I sometimes think that never blows so red<br>The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled;<br>That every Hyacinth the Garden wears<br>Dropt in its Lap from some once lovely Head. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXI.<br>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">XXII.<br>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">XXIII.<br>Lo! some we loved, 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">XXIV.<br>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">XXV.<br>Ah, make the most of what we may yet 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">XXVI.<br>Alike for those who for To-day prepare,<br>And those that after some 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">XXVII.<br>Why, all the Saints and Sages who discuss'd<br>Of the Two Worlds so learnedly, are thrust<br>Like foolish Prophets forth; their Works to Scorn<br>Are scatter'd, and their Mouths are stopt with Dust. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXVIII.<br>Oh, come with old Khayyam, 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 forever dies. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXIX.<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">XXX.<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">XXXI.<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">XXXII.<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 Master-Knot of Human Fate. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXIII.<br>There was the Door to which I found no Key:<br>There was the Veil through which I could not see:<br>Some little talk awhile of Me and Thee<br>There was -- and then no more of Thee and Me. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXIV.<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">XXXV.<br>Then to the Lip of this poor earthen Urn<br>I lean'd, 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">XXXVI.<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">XXXVII.<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">XXXVIII.<br>And has not such a Story from of Old<br>Down Man's successive generations roll'd<br>Of such a clod of saturated Earth<br>Cast by the Maker into Human mould? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXIX.<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">XL.<br>A Moment's Halt -- a momentary taste<br>Of Being from the Well amid the Waste --<br>And Lo! the phantom Caravan has reach'd<br>The Nothing it set out from -- Oh, make haste! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">XLI.<br>Oh, plagued no more with Human or Divine,<br>To-morrow's tangle to itself resign,<br>And lose your fingers in the tresses of<br>The Cypress-slender Minister of Wine. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">XLII.<br>Waste not your Hour, nor in the vain pursuit<br>Of This and That endeavor and dispute;<br>Better be merry with the fruitful Grape<br>Than sadden after none, or bitter, fruit. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">XLIII.<br>You know, my Friends, with what a brave Carouse<br>I made a Second Marriage in my house;<br>Divorced old barren Reason from my Bed,<br>And took the Daughter of the Vine to Spouse. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">XLIV.<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">XLV.<br>The Grape that can with Logic absolute<br>The Two-and-Seventy jarring Sects confute:<br>The subtle Alchemest that in a Trice<br>Life's leaden Metal into Gold transmute. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">XLVI.<br>Why, be this Juice the growth of God, who dare<br>Blaspheme the twisted tendril as Snare?<br>A Blessing, we should use it, should we not?<br>And if a Curse -- why, then, Who set it there? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">XLVII.<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 couch'd,<br>Make Game of that which makes as much of Thee. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">XLVIII.<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">XLIX.<br>Strange, is it not? that of the myriads who<br>Before us pass'd the door of Darkness through<br>Not one returns to tell us of the Road,<br>Which to discover we must travel too. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">L.<br>The Revelations of Devout and Learn'd<br>Who rose before us, and as Prophets burn'd,<br>Are all but Stories, which, awoke from Sleep,<br>They told their fellows, and to Sleep return'd. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">LI.<br>Why, if the Soul can fling the Dust aside,<br>And naked on the Air of Heaven ride,<br>Is't not a shame -- Is't not a shame for him<br>So long in this Clay suburb to abide? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">LII.<br>But that is but a Tent wherein may rest<br>A Sultan to the realm of Death addrest;<br>The Sultan rises, and the dark Ferrash<br>Strikes, and prepares it for another guest. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">LIII.<br>I sent my Soul through the Invisible,<br>Some letter of that After-life to spell:<br>And after many days my Soul return'd<br>And said, "Behold, Myself am Heav'n and Hell." </div><div style="margin:10px 0">LIV.<br>Heav'n but the Vision of fulfill'd Desire,<br>And Hell the Shadow of a Soul on fire,<br>Cast on the Darkness into which Ourselves,<br>So late emerg'd from, shall so soon expire. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">LV.<br>While the Rose blows along the River Brink,<br>With old Khayyam and 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">LVI.<br>And fear not lest Existence closing your<br>Account, should lose, or know the type no more;<br>The Eternal Saki from the Bowl has pour'd<br>Millions of Bubbls like us, and will pour. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">LVII.<br>When You and I behind the Veil are past,<br>Oh but the long long while the World shall last,<br>Which of our Coming and Departure heeds<br>As much as Ocean of a pebble-cast. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">LVIII.<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">LIX.<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">LX.<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">LXI.<br>For let Philosopher and Doctor preach<br>Of what they will, and what they will not -- each<br>Is but one Link in an eternal Chain<br>That none can slip, nor break, nor over-reach. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXII.<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">LXIII.<br>With Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man 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">LXIV.<br>Yesterday This Day's Madness did prepare;<br>To-morrow's Silence, Triumph, or Despair:<br>Drink! for you know not whence you came, nor why:<br>Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXV.<br>I tell You this -- When, starting from the Goal,<br>Over the shoulders of the flaming Foal<br>Of Heav'n Parwin and Mushtari they flung,<br>In my predestin'd Plot of Dust and Soul. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXVI.<br>The Vine has struck a fiber: which about<br>If clings my Being -- let the Dervish flout;<br>Of my Base metal may be filed a Key,<br>That shall unlock the Door he howls without. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXVII.<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">LXVIII.<br>What! out of senseless Nothing to provoke<br>A conscious Something to resent the yoke<br>Of unpermitted Pleasure, under pain<br>Of Everlasting Penalties, if broke! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXIX.<br>What! from his helpless Creature be repaid<br>Pure Gold for what he lent us dross-allay'd --<br>Sue for a Debt we never did contract,<br>And cannot answer -- Oh the sorry trade! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXX.<br>Nay, but for terror of his wrathful Face,<br>I swear I will not call Injustice Grace;<br>Not one Good Fellow of the Tavern but<br>Would kick so poor a Coward from the place. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXXI.<br>Oh Thou, who didst with pitfall and with gin<br>Beset the Road I was to wander in,<br>Thou will not with Predestin'd Evil round<br>Enmesh me, and impute my Fall to Sin? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXXII.<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! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXXIII.<br>Listen again. One Evening at the Close<br>Of Ramazan, 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">LXXIV.<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">LXXV.<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">LXXVI.<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">LXXVII.<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">LXXVIII:<br>"Why," said another, "Some there are who tell<br>Of one who threatens he will toss to Hell<br>The luckless Pots he marred in making -- Pish!<br>He's a Good Fellow, and 'twill all be well." </div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXXIX.<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-by!" </div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXXX.<br>So while the Vessels one by one were speaking,<br>The Little Moon look'd in that all were seeking:<br>And then they jogg'd each other, "Brother! Brother!<br>Now for the Porter's shoulder-knot a-creaking!" </div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXXXI.<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">LXXXII.<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">LXXXIII.<br>Indeed the Idols I have loved 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">LXXXIV.<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">LXXXV.<br>And much as Wine has play'd the Infidel,<br>And robb'd me of my Robe of Honor -- 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">LXXXVI.<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">LXXXVII.<br>Would but the Desert of the Fountain yield<br>One glimpse -- If dimly, yet indeed, reveal'd<br>To which the fainting Traveller might spring,<br>As springs the trampled herbage of the field! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXXXVIII.<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">LXXXIX.<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">XC.<br>And when like her, oh Saki, you shall pass<br>Among the Guests star-scatter'd on the Grass,<br>And in your joyous errand reach the spot<br>Where I made one -- turn down an empty Glass!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">TAMAM SHUD</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Omar+Khayyam">Omar Khayyam</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=472712" data-title="The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam de Omar Khayyam" data-description="Translated into English in 1859 by Edward FitzGerald 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 w..."></div> </div> </div>
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