Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam

Quotes

1. Ah Love! could you and I with Him conspire.

2. 

   A book, a woman, and a flask of wine:

   The three make heaven for me; it may be thine

   Is some sour place of singing cold and bare —

   But then, I never said thy heaven was mine.

   p. 32

3. 

   Would but some wing'ed Angel ere too late

   Arrest the yet unfolded Roll of Fate,

   And make the stern Recorder otherwise

   Enregister, or quite obliterate!

4. 

   What! from his helpless Creature be repaid

   Pure Gold for what he lent him dross-allay'd —

   Sue for a Debt he never did contract,

   And cannot answer — Oh, the sorry trade!

5. 

   And when Thyself with shining Foot shall pass

   Among the Guests Star-scatter'd on The Grass,

   And in Thy joyous Errand reach the Spot

   Where I made one — turn down an empty Glass!

6. 

   And this I know: whether the one True Light

   Kindle to Love, or Wrath-consume me quite,

   One Flash of It within the Tavern caught

   Better than in the Temple lost outright.

7. 

   The Vine had struck a fibre: which about

   If clings my being — let the Dervish flout;

   Of my Base metal may be filed a Key,

   That shall unlock the Door he howls without.

8. 

   Yon rising Moon that looks for us again —

   How oft hereafter will she wax and wane;

   How oft hereafter rising look for us

   Through this same Garden — and for one in vain!

9. 

   But here are wine and beautiful young girls,

   Be wise and hide your Sorrows in their curls,

   Dive as you will in life's mysterious sea,

   You shall not bring us any better pearls.

   p. 45

10. 

    One half so precious as the stuff they sell.

11. 

    I wonder often what the Vintners buy

    One half so precious as the stuff they sell.

12. 

    Ah, with the Grape my fading Life provide,

    And wash the Body whence the Life has died,

    And lay me, shrouded in the living Leaf,

    By some not unfrequented Garden-side.

13. 

    After a momentary silence spake

    Some Vessel of a more ungainly Make;

    "They sneer at me for leaning all awry:

    What! did the Hand then of the Potter shake?"

14. 

    "Why," said another, "Some there are who tell

    Of one who threatens he will toss to Hell

    The luckless Pots he marr'd in making--Pish!

    "He's a Good Fellow, and 'twill all be well."

15. 

    Then said a Second — "Ne'er a peevish Boy

    Would break the Bowl from which he drank in joy,

    And He that with his hand the Vessel made

    Will surely not in after Wrath destroy."

16. 

    Indeed the Idols I have loved so long

    Have done my credit in this World much wrong:

    Have drown'd my Glory in a shallow Cup

    And sold my Reputation for a Song.

17. 

    "Well," Murmur'd one, "Let whoso make or buy,

    My Clay with long Oblivion is gone dry:

    But fill me with the old familiar juice,

    Methinks I might recover by and by."

18. 

    Allah, perchance, the secret word might spell;

    If Allah be, He keeps His secret well;

    What He hath hidden, who shall hope to find?

    Shall God His secret to a maggot tell?

    p. 45

19. 

    Indeed, indeed, Repentance oft before

    I swore — but was I sober when I swore?

    And then and then came Spring, and Rose-in-hand

    My thread-bare Penitence apieces tore.

20. 

    Said one among them — "Surely not in vain

    My substance of the common Earth was ta'en

    And to this Figure moulded, to be broke,

    Or trampled back to shapeless Earth again."

21. 

    What! out of senseless Nothing to provoke

    A conscious Something to resent the yoke

    Of unpermitted Pleasure, under pain

    Of Everlasting Penalties, if broke!

22. 

    Shapes of all Sorts and Sizes, great and small,

    That stood along the floor and by the wall;

    And some loquacious Vessels were; and some

    Listen'd perhaps, but never talk'd at all.

23. 

    And when like her, oh, Saki, you shall pass.

24. 

    And ev'n with Paradise devise the Snake.

25. 

    As under cover of departing Day

    Slunk hunger-stricken Ramazan away,

    Once more within the Potter's house alone

    I stood, surrounded by the Shapes of Clay.

26. 

    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."

27. 

    Oh, Thou who Man of baser Earth didst make,

    And ev'n with Paradise devise the Snake:

    For all the Sin wherewith the Face of Man

    Is blacken'd — Man's forgiveness give — and take!

28. 

    Ah, Love! could thou and I with Fate conspire

    To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,

    Would not we shatter it to bits — and then

    Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!

29. 

    Yet Ah, that Spring should vanish with the Rose!

30. 

    That ev'n my buried Ashes such a snare

    Of Vintage shall fling up into the Air

    As not a True-believer passing by

    But shall be overtaken unaware.

31. 

    And much as Wine has play'd the Infidel,

    And robb'd me of my Robe of Honour — well,

    I often wonder what the Vintners buy

    One half so precious as the Goods they sell.

32. 

    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!

33. 

    The Koran! well, come put me to the test—

    Lovely old book in hideous error drest—

    Believe me, I can quote the Koran too,

    The unbeliever knows his Koran best. And do you think that unto such as you,

    A maggot-minded, starved, fanatic crew,

    God gave the secret, and denied it me?—

    Well, well, what matters it! believe that too.

    p. 47

34. 

    And strange to tell, among that Earthen Lot

    Some could articulate, while others not:

    And suddenly one more impatient cried —

    "Who is the Potter, pray, and who the Pot?"

35. 

    Tamám Shud. / It is finished.

36. 

    Ah, Moon of my Delight who know'st no wane,

    The Moon of Heav'n is rising once again:

    How oft hereafter rising shall she look

    Through this same Garden after me — in vain!

37. 

    Alas, that Spring should vanish with the Rose!

    That Youth's sweet-scented Manuscript should close!

    The Nightingale that in the Branches sang,

    Ah, whence, and whither flown again, who knows!

38. 

    As impotently moves as you or I.

39. 

    Came out by the same Door where in I went.

40. 

    Strange, is it not? that of the myriads who

    Before us pass'd the door of Darkness through,

    Not one returns to tell us of the Road,

    Which to discover we must travel too.

41. 

    'Tis but a Tent where takes his one day's rest

    A Sultan to the realm of Death addrest;

    The Sultan rises, and the dark Ferrash

    Strikes, and prepares it for another Guest.

42. 

    Up from Earth's Centre through the Seventh Gate

    rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate;

    And many a Knot unravel'd by the Road;

    But not the Master-knot of Human Fate.

43. 

    Waste not your Hour, nor in the vain pursuit

    Of This and That endeavour and dispute;

    Better be jocund with the fruitful Grape

    Than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit.

44. 

    Ah, fill the Cup: — what boots it to repeat

    How Time is slipping underneath our Feet:

    Unborn and dead ,

    Why fret about them if be sweet!

45. 

    Into this Universe, and why not knowing,

    Nor whence, like Water willy-nilly flowing:

    And out of it, as Wind along the Waste,

    I know not whither, willy-nilly blowing.

46. 

    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."

47. 

    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!"

48. 

    Why, if the Soul can fling the Dust aside,

    And naked on the Air of Heaven ride,

    Were't not a Shame — were't not a Shame for him

    In this clay carcase crippled to abide?

49. 

    Oh, threats of Hell and Hopes of Paradise!

    One thing at least is certain — This Life flies;

    One thing is certain and the rest is Lies;

    The Flower that once has blown for ever dies.

50. 

    You know, my Friends, with what a brave Carouse

    I made a Second Marriage in my house;

    Divorced old barren Reason from my Bed

    And took the Daughter of the Vine to Spouse.

51. 

    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.

52. 

    A moment guess'd — then back behind the Fold

    Immerst of Darkness round the Drama roll'd

    Which, for the Pastime of Eternity,

    He doth Himself contrive, enact, behold.

53. 

    A Moment's Halt — a momentary taste

    Of from the Well amid the Waste —

    And Lo! — the phantom Caravan has reach'd

    The it set out from — Oh, make haste!

54. 

    '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.

55. 

    Then to the lip of this poor earthen Urn

    I lean'd, the Secret of my Life to learn:

    And Lip to Lip it murmur'd — "While you live

    Drink! — for, once dead, you never shall return."

56. 

    Yesterday This Day's Madness did prepare;

    To-morrow's Silence, Triumph, or Despair:

    Drink! for you know not whence you came, nor why:

    Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.

57. 

    Ah, but my Computations, People say,

    Reduced the Year to better reckoning? — Nay

    'Twas only striking from the Calendar

    Unborn To-morrow, and dead Yesterday.

58. 

    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?

59. 

    Whose secret Presence, through Creation's veins

    Running Quicksilver-like eludes your pains;

    Taking all shapes from Mah to Mahi; and

    They change and perish all — but He remains.

60. 

    The Grape that can with Logic absolute

    The Two-and-Seventy jarring Sects confute.

61. 

    When You and I behind the Veil are past,

    Oh, but the long, long while the World shall last,

    Which of our Coming and Departure heeds

    As the Sea's self should heed a pebble-cast.

62. 

    Oh, many a Cup of this forbidden Wine

    Must drown the memory of that insolence!

63. 

    A Hair perhaps divides the False and True;

    Yes; and a single Alif were the clue —

    Could you but find it — to the Treasure-house,

    And peradventure to The Master too.

64. 

    And fear not lest Existence closing your

    Account, and mine, should know the like no more;

    The Eternal Saki from that Bowl has pour'd

    Millions of Bubbles like us, and will pour.

65. 

    The mighty Mahmud, Allah-breathing Lord

    That all the misbelieving and black Horde

    Of Fears and Sorrows that infest the Soul

    Scatters before him with his whirlwind Sword.

66. 

    Why, be this Juice the growth of God, who dare

    Blaspheme the twisted tendril as a Snare?

    A Blessing, we should use it, should we not?

    And if a Curse — why, then, Who set it there?

67. 

    Thou wilt not with Predestined Evil round

    Enmesh, and then impute my Fall to Sin!

68. 

    With Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man knead,

    And there of the Last Harvest sow'd the Seed:

    And the first Morning of Creation wrote

    What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read.

69. 

    With them the seed of Wisdom did I sow,

    And with mine own hand wrought to make it grow;

    And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd —

    "I came like Water, and like Wind I go."

70. 

    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.

71. 

    And lately, by the Tavern Door agape,

    Came shining through the Dusk an Angel Shape

    Bearing a Vessel on his Shoulder; and

    He bid me taste of it; and 'twas — the Grape!

72. 

    We are no other than a moving row

    Of Magic Shadow-shapes that come and go

    Round with the Sun-illumined Lantern held

    In Midnight by the Master of the Show;

73. 

    And that inverted Bowl they call the Sky.

74. 

    There was the Door to which I found no Key;

    There was the Veil through which I might not see:

    Some little talk awhile of and

    There was — and then no more of and .

75. 

    And if the Wine you drink, the Lip you press

    End in what All begins and ends in — Yes;

    Think then you are To-day what Yesterday

    You were — To-morrow You shall not be less.

76. 

    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!

77. 

    For "" and "" though with Rule and Line,

    And, "Up-and-down" without, I could define,

    I yet in all I only cared to know,

    Was never deep in anything but — Wine.

78. 

    The Revelations of Devout and Learn'd

    Who rose before us, and as Prophets burn'd,

    Are all but Stories, which, awoke from Sleep,

    They told their comrades, and to Sleep return'd.

79. 

    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 and

    There seemed — and then no more of and .

80. 

    I sent my Soul through the Invisible,

    Some letter of that After-life to spell:

    And by and by my Soul return'd to me,

    And answer'd "I Myself am Heav'n and Hell."

81. 

    But Here or There as strikes the Player goes.

82. 

    One Flash of It within the Tavern caught.

83. 

    Heav'n but the Vision of fulfill'd Desire,

    And Hell the Shadow from a Soul on fire,

    Cast on the Darkness into which Ourselves,

    So late emerged from, shall so soon expire.

84. 

    What, without asking, hither hurried whence?

    And, without asking, whither hurried hence!

    Another and another Cup to drown

    The Memory of this Impertinence!

85. 

    Perplext no more with Human or Divine,

    To-morrow's tangle to the winds resign,

    And lose your fingers in the tresses of

    The Cypress — slender Minister of Wine.

86. 

    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 — knows — HE knows!

87. 

    But helpless Pieces of the Game He plays

    Upon this Chequer-board of Nights and Days;

    Hither and thither moves, and checks, and slays,

    And one by one back in the Closet lays.

88. 

    Then of the works behind

    The Veil, I lifted up my hands to find

    A Lamp amid the Darkness; and I heard,

    As from Without — "!"

89. 

    Would you that spangle of Existence spend

    About the Secret — Quick about it, Friend!

    A Hair perhaps divides the False and True —

    And upon what, prithee, may life depend?

90. 

    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.

91. 

    And that inverted Bowl we call The Sky,

    Whereunder crawling coop't we live and die,

    Lift not thy hands to It for help — for It

    Rolls impotently on as Thou or I.

92. 

    I must abjure the Balm of Life, I must,

    Scared by some After-reckoning ta'en on trust,

    Or lured with Hope of some Diviner Drink,

    To fill the Cup — when crumbled into Dust!

93. 

    But if in vain, down on the stubborn floor

    Of Earth, and up to Heav'n's unopening Door

    You gaze To-day, while You are You — how then

    To-morrow, You when shall be You no more?

94. 

    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.

95. 

    But come with old Khayyám, and leave the Lot

    Of Kaikobád and Kaikhosrú forgot:

    Let Rustum lay about him as he will,

    Or Hátim Tai cry Supper — heed them not.

96. 

    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."

97. 

    Well, let it take them! What have we to do

    With Kaikobad the Great, or Kaikhosru?

    Let Zal and Rustum bluster as they will,

    Or Hatim call to Supper — heed not you.

98. 

    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.

99. 

    Why, all the Saints and Sages who discuss'd

    Of the Two Worlds so wisely — they are thrust.

100. 

     Before the phantom of False morning died,

     Methought a Voice within the Tavern cried,

     "When all the Temple is prepared within,

     Why nods the drowsy Worshipper outside?"

101. 

     And this reviving Herb whose tender Green

     Fledges the River-Lip on which we lean —

     Ah, lean upon it lightly! for who knows

     From what once lovely Lip it springs unseen!

102. 

     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.

103. 

     Stamps o'er his Head, but cannot break his Sleep.

104. 

     Oh, come with old Khayyam, 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.

105. 

     A Book of Verses underneath the Bough,

     A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread — and Thou

     Beside me singing in the Wilderness —

     Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!

106. 

     Irám indeed is gone with all its Rose,

     And Jamshýd'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.

107. 

     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!

108. 

     Now the New Year reviving old Desires,

     The thoughtful Soul to Solitude retires,

     Where the on the Bough

     Puts out, and Jesus from the Ground suspires.

109. 

     "How sweet is mortal Sovranty!"—think some:

     Others — "How blest the Paradise to come!"

     Ah, take the Cash in hand and wave the Rest;

     Oh, the brave Music of a distant Drum!

110. 

     They say the Lion and the Lizard keep

     The Courts where Jamshýd gloried and drank deep:

     And Bahrám, that great Hunter—the Wild Ass

     Stamps o'er his Head, and he lies fast asleep.

111. 

     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!

112. 

     Ah! my Belovéd, 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.

113. 

     In divine

     High piping Péhlevi, with "Wine! Wine! Wine!

     "Red Wine!"—the Nightingale cries to the Rose

     That yellow Cheek of her's to'incarnadine.

114. 

     Think, in this batter'd Caravanserai

     Whose Doorways are alternate Night and Day,

     How Sultán after Sultán with his Pomp

     Abode his Hour or two, and went his way.

115. 

     I sometimes think that never blows so red

     The Rose as where some buried Cæsar bled;

     That every Hyacinth the Garden wears

     Dropt in its Lap from some once lovely Head.

116. 

     Alike for those who for prepare,

     And those that after some stare,

     A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries

     "Fools! your Reward is neither Here nor There."

117. 

     Each Morn a thousand Roses brings, you say;

     Yes, but where leaves the Rose of Yesterday?

118. 

     Of threats of Hell and Hopes of Paradise!

     One thing at least is certain — This Life flies.

119. 

     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.

120. 

     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.

121. 

     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.

122. 

     Lo! some we loved, the loveliest and the best

     That Time and Fate of all their Vintage prest,

     Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before,

     And one by one crept silently to Rest.

123. 

     That sallow cheek of hers to' incarnadine.

124. 

     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."

125. 

     But still a Ruby kindles in the Vine,

     And many a Garden by the Water blows.

126. 

     Wake! For the Sun, who scatter'd into flight

     The Stars before him from the Field of Night,

     Drives Night along with them from Heav'n, and strikes

     The Sultan's Turret with a Shaft of Light.

127. 

     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.

128. 

     And look — a thousand Blossoms with the Day

     Woke — and a thousand scatter'd into Clay.

129. 

     For some we loved, the loveliest and the best

     That from his Vintage rolling Time hath prest.

130. 

     Some for the Glories of This World; and some

     Sigh for the Prophet's Paradise to come;

     Ah, take the Cash, and let the Credit go,

     Nor heed the rumble of a distant Drum!

131. 

     I sometimes think that never blows so red

     The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled;

     That every Hyacinth the Garden wears

     Dropt in her Lap from some once lovely Head.

132. 

     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.

133. 

     With me along some Strip of Herbage strown

     That just divides the desert from the sown,

     Where name of Slave and Sultán scarce is known,

     And pity Sultán Mahmúd on his Throne.

134. 

     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.

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