Khayyam

Rubaiyat Of Omar Khayyam Of Naishapur
Author: Khayyam, Omar
Written: 1120
Translation: Fitzgerald, Edward

I
Wake! For the Sun behind yon Eastern height
Has chased the Session of the Stars from Night;
And to the field of Heav'n ascending, strikes
The Sultan's Turret with a Shaft of Light.

II
Before the phantom of False morning died,
Methought a Voice within the Tavern cried,
"When all the Temple is prepared within,
Why lags the drowsy Worshipper outside?"§

III
And, as the Cock crew, those who stood before
The Tavern shouted - "Open then the Door!
You know how little while we have to stay,
And, once departed, may return no more."§

IV
Now the New Year reviving old Desires,
The thoughtful Soul to Solitude retires,
Where the White Hand of Moses on the Bough
Puts out, and Jesus from the Ground suspires.§

V
Iram indeed is gone with all his Rose,
And Jamshyd's Sev'n - ring'd Cup where no one knows;
But still a Ruby gushes from the Vine,
And many a Garden by the Water blows.§

VI
And David's lips are lockt; but in divine
High - piping Pehlevi, with "Wine! Wine! Wine!
Red Wine!" - the Nightingale cries to the Rose
That sallow cheek of hers to incarnadine.§

VII
Come, fill the Cup, and in the fire of Spring
Your Winter - garment of Repentance fling:
The Bird of Time has but a little way
To flutter - and the Bird is on the Wing.§

VIII
Whether at Naishapur or Babylon,
Whether the Cup with sweet or bitter run,
The Wine of Life keeps oozing drop by drop,
The Leaves of Life keep falling one by one.§

IX
Morning a thousand Roses brings, you say;
Yes, but where leaves the Rose of Yesterday?
And this first Summer month that brings the Rose
Shall take Jamshyd and Kaikobad away.§

X
Well, let it take them! What have we to do
With Kaikobad the Great, or Kaikhosru?
Let Rustum cry "To Battle!" as he likes,
Or Hatim Tai "To supper!" - heed not you.§X

XI
With me along the strip of Herbage strown
That just divides the desert from the sown,
Where name of Slave and Sultan is forgot -
And Peace to Mahmud on his golden Throne!

XII
Here with a little Bread beneath the Bough,
A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse - and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness -
Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!§XII

XIII
Here with a little Bread beneath the Bough,
A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse - and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness -
Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!§

XIII
Some for the Glories of This World; and some
Sigh for the Prophet's Paradise to come;
Ah, take the Cash, and let the Promise go,
Nor heed the music of a distant Drum!§

XIV
Were it not Folly, Spider - like to spin
The Thread of present Life away to win -
What? for ourselves, who know not if we shall
Breathe out the very Breath we now breathe in!§

XV
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."

XVI
For those who husbanded the Golden grain,
And those who flung it to the winds like Rain,
Alike to no such aureate Earth are turn'd
As, buried once, Men want dug up again.§

XVII
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 - was gone.§

XVIII
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.§

XIX
They say the Lion and the Lizard keep
The Courts where Jamshyd gloried and drank deep:
And Bahram, that great Hunter - the Wild Ass
Stamps o'er his Head, but cannot break his Sleep.

XX
The Palace that to Heav'n his pillars threw,
And Kings the forehead on his threshold drew -
I saw the solitary Ringdove there,
And "Coo, coo, coo," she cried; and "Coo, coo, coo."

XXI
Ah, my Beloved, fill the Cup that clears
To - day of past Regret and Future Fears:
To - morrow! - Why, To - morrow I may be
Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n thousand Years.§