Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám (Quatrains XIII - XXIII) - Omar Khayyám

Look to the Rose that blows 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.' 

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 — is gone. 

And 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. 

Think, in this batter'd Caravanserai 

Whose Doorways are alternate Night and Day, 

How Sultan after Sultan with his Pomp 

Abode his Hour or two, and went his way, 

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, and he lies fast asleep, 

I sometimes think that never blows so red 

The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled; 

That every Hyacinth the Garden wears 

Dropt in its Lap from some once lovely Head, 

And this delightful Herb whose tender Green 

Fledges the River's Lip on which we lean — 

Ah, lean upon it lightly ! for who knows 

From what once lovely Lip it springs unseen! 

Ah, my Beloved, fill the Cup that clears 

To-day of past Regrets and future Fears — 

To-morrow?  — Why, To-morrow I may be 

Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n Thousand Years, 

Lo! some we loved, the loveliest and best 

That Time and Fate of all their Vintage prest, 

Edmund Dulac
Cover illustration

Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before, 

And one by one crept silently to Rest 

And we, that now make merry in the Room 

They left, and Summer dresses in new Bloom, 

Ourselves must we beneath the Couch of  Earth 

Descend, ourselves to make a Couch — for whom? 

Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend. 

Before we too into the Dust descend ; 

Dust into Dust, and under Dust, to lie. 

Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and — sans End! 

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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