Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám (Quatrains I - XII) - Omar Khayyam

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,

Dreaming when Dawn's Left Hand was in the Sky
I heard a Voice within the Tavern cry,
'Awake, my Little ones, and fill the Cup
Before Life's Liquor in its Cup be dry,'

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,

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,

Irám indeed is gone with all its Rose,
And Jamshŷd'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,

And David's Lips are lock't; but in divine
High piping Pehlevi, with 'Wine! Wine! Wine!
Red Wine!' — the Nightingale cries to the Rose
That yellow Cheek of hers to incarnadine.

Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring
The Winter Garment of Repentance fling;
The Bird of Time has but a little way
To fly — and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing,

And look — a thousand Blossoms with the Day
Woke — and a thousand scatter'd into Clay;

Emund Dulac
Illustration for Quatrain XI
Here with a Loaf of Bread...

And this first Summer Month that brings the Rose
Shall take Jamshŷd and Kaikobád away,

But come with old Khayyam, and leave the Lot
Of Kaikobád and Kaikhosrŭ forgot;
Let Rustum lay about him as he will,
Or Hátim Tai cry Supper — heed them not,

"With me along some Strip of Herbage strown
That just divides the desert from the sown,
Where name of Slave and Sultan scarce is known,
And pity Sultan Mahmiid on his Throne.

Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,
A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse — and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness —
And Wilderness is Paradise enow,

'How sweet is mortal Sovranty!' — think some;
Others — 'How blest the Paradise to come!'
Ah, take the Cash in hand and waive the Rest;
Oh, the brave Music of a distant Drum!

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Omar Khayyám (1048–1131) Iran
Translated by Edward FitzGerald
Source: Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám by Omar Khayyam; Translated by Edward FitzGerald, H.W. Bell, 1901