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Read Ebook: Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyam Rendered into English Verse by Omar Khayyam Dulac Edmund Illustrator FitzGerald Edward Translator
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Ebook has 393 lines and 27876 words, and 8 pages
Alike for those who for TO-DAY prepare, And those that after a TO-MORROW stare, A Muezz?n from the Tower of Darkness cries "Fools! your Reward is neither Here nor There!"
Why, all the Saints and Sages who discuss'd Of the TWO Worlds so learnedly, are thrust Like foolish Prophets forth; their Words to Scorn Are scatter'd, and their Mouths are stopt with Dust.
Oh, come with old Khayy?m, and leave the Wise To talk; one thing is certain, that Life flies; One thing is certain, and the Rest is Lies; The Flower that once has blown for ever dies.
Myself when young did eagerly frequent Doctor and Saint, and heard great Argument About it and about: but evermore Came out by the same Door as in I went.
With them the Seed of Wisdom did I sow, And with my own hand labour'd it to grow: And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd-- "I came like Water, and like Wind I go."
XXX
Up from Earth's Centre through the Seventh Gate I rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate, And many Knots unravel'd by the Road; But not the Knot of Human Death and Fate.
There was a Door to which I found no Key: There was a Veil past which I could not see: Some little Talk awhile of ME and THEE There seem'd--and then no more of THEE and ME.
Then to the rolling Heav'n itself I cried, Asking, "What Lamp had Destiny to guide Her little Children stumbling in the Dark?" And--"A blind Understanding!" Heav'n replied.
Then to this earthen Bowl did I adjourn My Lip the secret Well of Life to learn: And Lip to Lip it murmur'd--"While you live Drink!--for once dead you never shall return."
I think the Vessel, that with fugitive Articulation answer'd, once did live, And merry-make; and the cold Lip I kiss'd How many Kisses might it take--and give!
For in the Market-place, one Dusk of Day, I watch'd the Potter thumping his wet Clay: And with its all obliterated Tongue It murmur'd--"Gently, Brother, gently, pray!"
Ah, fill the Cup:--what boots it to repeat How Time is slipping underneath our Feet: Unborn TO-MORROW, and dead YESTERDAY Why fret about them if TO-DAY be sweet!
One Moment in Annihilation's Waste, One Moment, of the Well of Life to taste-- The Stars are setting and the Caravan Starts for the Dawn of Nothing--Oh, make haste!
How long, how long, in definite Pursuit Of This and That endeavour and dispute? Better be merry with the fruitful Grape Than sadder after none, or bitter, Fruit.
You know, my Friends, how long since in my House For a new Marriage I did make Carouse: Divorced old barren Reason from my Bed, And took the Daughter of the Vine to Spouse.
XLI
XLII
And lately, by the Tavern Door agape, Came stealing through the Dusk an Angel Shape Bearing a Vessel on his Shoulder; and He bid me taste of it; and 'twas--the Grape!
The Grape that can with Logic absolute The Two-and-Seventy jarring Sects confute: The subtle Alchemist that in a Trice Life's leaden Metal into Gold transmute.
XLIV
The mighty Mahm?d, the victorious Lord, That all the misbelieving and black Horde Of Fears and Sorrows that infest the Soul Scatters and slays with his enchanted Sword.
XLV
But leave the Wise to wrangle, and with me The Quarrel of the Universe let be: And, in some corner of the Hubbub coucht, Make Game of that which makes as much of Thee.
XLVI
For in and out, above, about, below, 'Tis nothing but a Magic Shadow-show Play'd in a Box whose Candle is the Sun, Round which we Phantom Figures come and go.
And if the Wine you drink, the Lip you press, End in the Nothing all Things end in--Yes-- Then fancy while Thou art, Thou art but what Thou shalt be--Nothing--Thou shalt not be less.
While the Rose blows along the River Brink, With old Khayy?m the Ruby Vintage drink: And when the Angel with his darker Draught Draws up to Thee--take that, and do not shrink.
'Tis all a Chequer-board of Nights and Days Where Destiny with Men for Pieces plays: Hither and thither moves, and mates, and slays, And one by one back in the Closet lays.
The Ball no Question makes of Ayes and Noes, But Right or Left as strikes the Player goes; And He that toss'd Thee down into the Field, HE knows about it all--HE knows--HE knows!
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.
LII
With Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man's knead, And then of the Last Harvest sow'd the Seed: Yea, the first Morning of Creation wrote What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read.
LIV
I tell Thee this--When, starting from the Goal, Over the shoulders of the flaming Foal Of Heav'n and Parw?n and Mushtara they flung, In my predestined Plot of Dust and Soul.
The Vine had struck a Fibre; which about If clings my Being--let the S?fi flout; Of my Base Metal may be filed a Key, That shall unlock the Door he howls without.
LVI
And this I know: whether the one True Light, Kindle to Love, or Wrath consume me quite, One glimpse of It within the Tavern caught Better than in the Temple lost outright.
Oh, Thou, who didst with Pitfall and with Gin Beset the Road I was to wander in, Thou wilt not with Predestination round Enmesh me, and impute my Fall to Sin?
Oh, Thou, who Man of baser Earth didst make, And who with Eden didst devise the Snake; For all the Sin wherewith the Face of Man Is blacken'd, Man's Forgiveness give--and take!
K?ZA-N?MA
Listen again. One evening at the Close Of Ramaz?n, ere the better Moon arose, In that old Potter's Shop I stood alone With the clay Population round in Rows.
Then said another--"Surely not in vain My Substance from the common Earth was ta'en, That He who subtly wrought me into Shape Should stamp me back to common Earth again."
None answer'd this; but after Silence spake A Vessel of a more ungainly Make: "They sneer at me for leaning all awry; What! did the Hand then of the Potter shake?"
Said one--"Folks of a surly Tapster tell, And daub his Visage with the Smoke of Hell; They talk of some strict Testing of us--Pish! He's a Good Fellow, and 'twill all be well."
Then said another with a long-drawn Sigh, "My Clay with long oblivion is gone dry: But, fill me with the old familiar Juice, Methinks I might recover by-and-by!"
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