«Thou hast broken my pitcher of wine, my God! Thus hast Thou shut upon me the gate of joy, O Lord! It is I who drink, and it is Thou who committest the disorder of drunkenness! Oh! (would that my mouth were filled with earth!) couldst Thou be drunk, my Lord?» The poet, after having pronounced this, casting his eyes upon a mirror, perceived that his face was black as coal. It was a punishment from heaven. Then he made this other quatrain, not less audacious than the first, and which expresses in an absolute manner, the repulsion of the poet for the doctrine of future punishment written in the Koran, and preached so ardently by the mullahs. The Sufis consider this doctrine not only in direct opposition to their own, but as unworthy the pity and clemency of the Divinity. Here is the quatrain: «What man here below has not sinned, can you say? And how could he have lived, had he not committed sin, can you tell? So, if I do wrong and you punish me wrongly, what is the difference which exists between you and me, I ask?» But let us come to the complete thought of the poet which deduces itself so energetically and with so much unity through the fantasy or the mysticism of his quatrains. J.B. Nicolas. NOTE.--The Translator being unfortunately familiar with at least seven translations and paraphrases of Omar, has found it by no means easy to expunge from memory the various renderings of the text. This «sponging out» was necessary in order that a faithful presentation of Nicolas' version of Omar should be made. With this comment, he leaves the translation to be judged on its possible merit, adding only this--that, declining metre (Fitzgerald's own domain), he has sought to clothe the prose in verbal sonance which should not disguise or mar the inherent music of the Omarian brook. Fidelity to the text, however, has been the first consideration. R.A. THE QUATRAINS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 1. One morning, coming from the tavern I heard a voice which said: Come, joyous drinkers, youthful fools, arise, and fill with me a cup of wine, ere Fate shall come to fill the cup of our existence. 2. O Thou who in the universe art the object chosen of my heart! Thou who art more dear than the soul which gives me life, than the eyes which give me light! O Idol, though in life there be no thing more precious than this life, Thou art indeed a hundred times more precious than that life. 3. Who led thee here this night, thus given up to wine? Who, indeed, raising the veil which hid thee, has been able to lead thee here? Who, finally, brought thee as rapidly as the wind which fans the fire that still burned in thy absence? 4.