The Sufistic Quatrains of Omar KhayyamOmar Khayyam
ReligionSufism
The Sufistic Quatrains of Omar Khayyam
Omar Khayyam
FitzGerald, Edward, 1809-1883; Sufi poetry
Would that I had constantly in my hand the juice of
the vine! Would that my love for these beautiful idols,
that are like houris, might never leave my heart! They
say to me: God has ordered you to renounce these things.
Oh! should He give me such a command, I would not
obey it. Far be the thought!
152.
Behold, I must go, and life is saddened by my going; for,
out of a hundred precious pearls but one have I pierced.
Alas! thanks to the ignorance of men, a hundred thousand
things of deepest import yet remain unheard.
153.
To-day the season smiles; 'tis neither hot nor cold. The
clouds have washed away the dust which dimmed the
roses; and nightingales seem whispering to the yellow
flowers that wine is balm for all.
154.
The day when I shall know myself no more, and when
they will speak of me as of a fable, then I desire [do
I dare say it?] that my clay be made into a jar for wine
and destined to service at the tavern.
155.
Drink thou of wine before thy name shall vanish from
this world, for, when this nectar enters thy heart, sorrow
disappears. Unbind strand by strand the hair of thy
charming idol, before the jointure of thy frame itself is
loosed.
156.
O idol! ere sorrow comes to assail thee, order rose-colored
wine. Thou art not gold, O imbecile! to believe
that after burial in the earth, you can be drawn from it
again.
157.
This world has not derived any advantage from my
coming here below. Its glory and its dignity are equally
unaffected by my departure. My two ears have never
heard any one say why I have come, or why I am forced
to go again.
158.
All thy secrets are known to the wisdom of Heaven
[God]· He knows them hair by hair and vein by vein.
I admit that by power of hypocrisy you may be able
to deceive men, but what will you do before Him who
knows your misdeeds one by one in every detail?
159.
Wine gives wings to those attacked by melancholy;
wine is a mole of beauty upon the cheek of intelligence,
we have not drunk of it during the Ramazan which
has passed, but now the eve of [the month of] Burak
hath arrived and we shall make amends.
160.
Live in joy, for the time is coming when all the creatures
that you see will disappear under the earth; drink,
drink of wine, and never abandon yourself to the sorrow
of this world. Those who come after you only too soon
become a prey to it.
161.
There is not a night when my mind is not in a state of
stupefaction. There is not one when my breast is not
inundated with pearls that flow from my eyes. The disquiet
which possesses me keeps the bowl of my head from
filling itself with wine, can a bowl overturned ever be
filled?
162.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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