Omar Khayyam

“ Forsake the Rose, and bid the Vine good-bye,
Kiss my last kiss—if it were in my power.
O good old friends, what is it I have said?
It was the wine that got into my head—
Forgive me, O forgive, I meant it not,
I shall forsake you only when I'm dead.
And even then—who knows?—we'll meet again,
Nor the celestial wine-cup cease to drain,
And in some laughter-loving heaven on high
Our little women to our bosoms strain.
Life is so short, yet sleeps thy lovely head;
Why make so soon a death-bed of thy bed? ”

“ 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 its Rose, And Jamshyd's Sev'n-ring'd Cup where no one knows; But still the Vine her ancient Ruby yields, And still a Garden by the Water blows.
VI.
And David's Lips are lock't; but in divine High piping Pelevi, with "Wine! Wine! Wine! Red Wine!"—the Nightingale cries to the Rose That yellow Cheek of hers to'incarnadine. ”

“ Put a cup of wine in my hand, for my heart is inflamed,
and my life slips away as quicksilver. Arise,
then, for the favors of fortune are only a dream; arise,
for the fire of thy youth is running away like the water
of a torrent.
55.
We are the idolaters of love, but the Musulman differs
from us; we are like the pitiful ant, but Salomon is our
foe. Our visages should aye be paled with love, and our
apparel in rags, and yet the mart for silken stuffs is here
below.
56.
To drink wine and rejoice is my gospel of life. To
be as indifferent to heresy as to religion is my creed. ”

“ 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 Naishápúr 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 Jamshýd and Kaikobád away.
X
Well, let it take them! ”

“ Waiting and waiting for the day to come.
For some have love, some gold, and some have fame,
But we have nothing, least of all a name,
Nothing but wine, yet ah! how much to say,
Nothing but wine—yet happy all the same.
Youth, like a magic bird, has flown away,
He sang a little morning-hour in May,
Sang to the Rose, his love, that too is gone—
Whither is more than you or I can say.
O have you deemed, who looked on us with scorn,
Poor drunkards, dreaming-drunk from morn to morn,
Our raiment stained, our reputation gone,
That all our heart is grape or barley-corn? ”

“ One day Hasan said to me and to Khayyám, 'It is a universal belief that the pupils of the Imám Mowaffak will attain to fortune. Now, even if we all do not attain thereto, without doubt one of us will; what then shall be our mutual pledge and bond?' We answered 'Be it what you please.' 'Well,' he said, 'let us make a vow, that to whomsoever this fortune falls, he shall share it equally with the rest, and reserve no pre-eminence for himself.' 'Be it so,' we both replied, and on those terms we mutually pledged our words. ”

“ Balkh? Drink then of wine, for after thee and me, the
moon will long pass on from its last quarter to its first,
and from the first to last.
106.
This caravan of life passes in curious guise! Be on thy
guard, my friend, for it is joy that thus escapes! Disturb
not thyself with the sorrow which to-morrow waits
our friends, and bring me my cup quickly, for the night
fast slips away!
107.
He who has made the foundations of the world, the
wheel of the heavens, how He has crucified the heart of
man with affliction! How many ruby-colored lips has He
buried in this little globe of earth! ”

“ That God had chosen me to sing His Vine,
And in my dust had thrown the vinous leaven.
If 'tis a sin to drink the yellow wine,
The sin is surely His, not thine or mine;
Fated to drink, how dare I disobey—
And bring to nought the prophecy divine!
So in the tavern pass I all my days,
And sing and drink, and give to God the praise;
Ready, at any summons of His hand,
To do His bidding in still harder ways.
O my beloved, may your glad to-morrows
Stretch out before you, endless as my sorrows;
Haste not away, I have but wine and you,
Yea! life is nought unless from you it borrows. ”

“ How long shall we blush at the injustice of others?
How long shall we burn in the fire of this insipid world?
Arise, banish from thee the sorrow of the world, if thou
art a man; to-day is a feast; come, drink rose-colored
wine.
282.
I am in continual war with my passions, but what can
I do? The memory of my deeds causes me a thousand
regrets, but what can I do? I admit that in Thy clemency
Thou mayest pardon my faults, but the shame of
knowing that Thou knowest what I have done, that shame
will remain, and what can I do? ”

“ And no one says—"Where is old Khayyám gone?"
O friends, forget not, as you laugh and play,
Some that were laughing with you yesterday,
Spare from your rose some petals for their graves,
Sprinkle some wine upon their parching clay.
For even this dust that blows along the street
Once whispered to its love that life was sweet,
Ruddy with wine it was, with roses crowned,
And now you spurn it with your eager feet.
There is no better piety than this:
To set aside a little of your bliss,
To feign for death a living portion still
In all the little joys that death must miss. ”

“ It is Thou who disposest of the lot of the living and
of the dead. It is Thou who governest this unruly Wheel
of the Heavens. Although I am bad, I am only Thy
slave, Thou art my master. Who then is guilty here
below? Art Thou not the Creator of all?
388 437.
O my King! how can such a man as I, finding himself
in the season of roses, in the midst of joyous society,
surrounded by wine, by dancers, remain a passive spectator?
Oh! to find oneself in a garden with a flask of
wine and a lute are things preferable to Paradise with
its houris and its Koocer. ”

“ In Heaven's blue bowl the wine of morning brims,
A little cloud, a rose-leaf, in it swims,
The thirsty earth drinks morning from a bowl
Whose sides are space and crusted stars its rims.
Yea! 'tis the morn! and like a morning star
The Sultan's palace glitters from afar,
No false mirage of morning, phantom-fair,
But blue-eyed day throned on his diamond car.
Awake! my soul, and haste betimes to drink,
This sun that rises all too soon shall sink,—
Come, come, O vintner, ope thy drowsy door!
We die of thirst upon the fountain's brink. ”

“ Bring wine from this ruby vessel and pour it into a
simple crystal cup; bring that thing habitual and dear
to every noble man. Since you know that all beings are
but dust, and that a two-day tempest makes them disappear,
bring wine.
204.
O Thou, the quest of whom holds all in dizziness and
distress, the dervish and the rich are equally void of
means of reaching Thee. Thy name is in the speech
of all, but all are deaf; Thou art present to the eyes of
all, but all are blind.
330 205.
In company with one dear friend, how pleasing to me
is a cup of wine. ”

“ My days are filled with wonder and with wine,
(Wine helps the wonder, wonder helps the wine,)
But in the night my bosom fills with tears—
Tears, tears, for one who never can be mine.
Even sad eyes must sparkle in the sun,
But when the miracle of day is done,
Down in a bankrupt darkness deep I lie,
Haunted by all I lost—and might have won!
Yet was there aught to win that is not mine?
I ask not money—only to buy wine;
Women forsake me not for all my sins—
What better winnings, pious friend, are thine?
I am not fit for hell—I am too small ”

“ You may indeed be taken with lips tinted with the
color of the ruby, you may indeed appreciate the cup of
wine, you may indeed call for the noise of the drum, the
sound of the harp and of the flute, but these are only
trifles. God is my witness, while you do not break the
bonds of this dark world, you nothing are.
418.
Bestir yourself, since you are under this tyrannic vault;
drink wine, since you are in this world, a seat of woe.
And, from beginning to the end, being only earth, act
like a man who is upon the earth, and not as if thou
wert beneath the earth. ”

“ Be not cast down by the troubles which we call vicissitudes
here below. Let us occupy ourselves only in
drinking pure wine, limpid wine, the color of a rose.
Wine, friend, is the blood of the world. The world is
our murderer; how shall we resist drinking the blood of
the heart of him who spills ours?
287.
For the love which I bring thee, I am ready to undergo
all sorts of blame, and if I violate my vow, I submit
to the penalty. Oh! had I to endure until the last day
the torment that thou causest me, that space of time
would still seem too short. ”

“ Than ever grew on any earthly vine.
The wine-cup is the little silver well
Where Truth, if Truth there be, doth ever dwell;
Death too is there,—and Death who would not seek?—
And Love that in itself is Heaven and Hell.
The wine-cup is a wistful magic glass,
Wherein all day old faces smile and pass,
Dead lips press ours upon its scented brim,
Old voices whisper many a sweet 'alas!'
And sometimes in the nodding afternoon,
When all is listening-still and half-a-swoon,
Sudden one lifts a shining startled face,—
Hark! 'tis the magic bird, the magic tune! ”

“ Give me some of this ruby wine, tinted like the tulip.
Pour from the neck of the flask the pure blood it contains,
for, to-day I can see, outside this cup of wine, no
friend whose inner man is pure.
428.
Pour me, O cupbearer! some wine colored like the
flowers of the Judas-tree, pour, O cupbearer! for grief
comes to oppress my soul; pour for me the nectar, for
it is possible that in making me a stranger to myself, it
will free me one instant from the vicissitudes of this
world. ”

“ Oh, if the potter make
a pitcher of my dust, would that that pitcher might constantly
be full of wine!
300.
I understand all that annihilation and being apparently
mean; I know the foundation of lofty thought. Ah, well!
may all this knowledge be annihilated in me if I recognize
in man a higher state than that of drunkenness!
354 301.
I indeed drink wine, but I commit no disorder. I
stretch out my hand, but it is only to seize the cup.
Would you know why I am an adorer of wine? It is
because I do not wish to imitate you and be an adorer
of myself. ”

“ I would like still a hundred years to commit sin and to
see if the sum of my faults outweighed Thy pity.
354.
Now take thy cup, carry away the gourd, O Charm of
my Heart! and go, explore the plains, the borders of
the brooks, for indeed idols, like to the moon in the light
of their beautiful countenances, have a hundred times
been transformed into cups, a hundred times have they
become gourds.
355.
It is we who buy old wine and new wine, and it is we
who sell the world for two grains of barley. Know where
you will go after death? Bring me some wine and go
where you will. ”

“ The disquiet
which possesses me keeps the bowl of my head from
filling itself with wine, can a bowl overturned ever be
filled?
162.
When my nature has seemed disposed to fasting and
prayer, I have a moment's hope that I am going to attain
the aim of my desires; but alas! a breath of wind has
sufficed to destroy the efficacy of my ablutions, and a
mouthful of wine has annihilated my fast.
163.
All my being is attracted by the sight of beautiful,
rose-colored faces; my hand is aye ready to seize a cup
of wine. ”

“ O my heart! if thou free thyself from the grief inherent
in matter, thou shalt become a soul in all its purity; thou
shalt mount to the heavens, thy residence shall be the
firmament. Oh! how thou shouldst suffer from shame
at inhabiting the earth!
395.
O potter! be attentive, if thou possessest sound reason!
How long wilt thou abase man in moulding his clay? It
is the finger of Feridoun, the hand of Kai-Khosrou which
you thus put upon your wheel.
396.
O rose! thou art the face of some young ravishing
fair! O wine! thou art the ruby whose brightness joys
my soul! O fateful fortune! ”

“ Render me happy to-day, and to-morrow make me
what thou deemest worthy of Thy pity.
322.
For him who makes account of human ills, joy, sorrow,
pain are all identical. The good and the bad of
this world must one day end. What matters it whether
all be torment or pleasure for us?
323.
Now that the nightingale has made its voice heard,
think no longer of anything, but seize the ruby cup of
wine from the hand of the drinkers; arise, come, for the
rose blossoms are breathing out joy; avenge thyself,
avenge thyself for two or three days for the torments
thou hast endured. ”