Milner, George [1899]
TWENTY RUBAIYAT FROM OMAR KHAYYAM. Rendered into English verse chiefly from the literal prose translations of Mr. Edward Heron-Allen.
Taken from: A note on a new aspect of Omar Khayyám, with twenty specimen renderings of the Rubáiyát, by George Milner. In: The Manchester Quarterly, vol. 18, Jan. 1899.
Potter 354 - Milner Edition
NOTE. The numbers are those of the Rubáiyát, as they appear in the Bodleian M.S. No titles are given in the original.
(Not in Potter)
I. - ORTHODOXY.
If I in pearls of song paid not thy due,
At least, I never from my face withdrew
The dust of sin; so, mercy, Lord, I crave:
For why? I never said that One was Two.
II. - ABNEGATION.
Better in taverns tell my thought to Thee
Than in the mosque, unthinking, bend my knee;
Dread Power! Just as Thou wilt - burn me
Or at Thy side in Heaven let me be.
III. - HUMILITY.
So far as in thee lies, do not deride
The helpless drunkard. Lay pretence aside;
If henceforth in thy life thou seekest rest,
With humble folk content thee to abide.
IV. - TENDERNESS.
As in thee lieth, grieve not any one,
Let thine own anger burn for thee alone;
Would'st thou hereafter find eternal peace,
Fret, if thou wilt, thyself, but harass none.
V. - LIVE FOR TO-DAY.
To-morrow! - Then for thee no moon may shine,
Make happy now this passionate heart of thine;
Next moon may seek us long but find us not,
Drink with thy Moon - drink now the fragrant wine.
VI. - THE KORAN AND THE WINE-CUP.
Men read the Koran slackly now and then -
Say this is best - we'll read once more but when?
Ah, on the Wine-Cup's rim a text is writ
Which they will read again and yet again.
VII.- OBLIVION.
Wine and our drunken bodies - both are clear;
But on the drinking-bench no hope or fear;
Souls, hearts, and garments reek with lees of wine
And earth, air, water are no longer here.
VIII. - FRIENDSHIP.
Make but few friends in life, for that is best;
If some be near, keep far away the rest;
When Wisdom's eye is opened thou may'st find.
He is thy foe who leant upon thy breast.
IX. - THE JUG.
This jug was once a lover such as I,
And with a fair one lip to lip did lie;
This curling handle on its neck, an arm
That round another's neck lay tenderly.
LXVI. - A REJOINDER.
I saw a man who trampled on the clay
Contemptuous; but I heard the trampled say
In mystic language, "Be thou very still,
Thou may'st, like me, be trampled on to-day."
LXXII. - ETERNAL SECRETS.
The eternal secrets are a tangled skein;
Who would unravel them makes labour vain,
Tyro and teacher, simpleton and sage,
Alike in abject impotence remain.
LXXX. - SPRING.
The breeze of Spring is in the world again,
And hope revives with soft-descending rain,
The budding boughs are white as Moses' hand,
And Jesu's perfumed breath floats o'er the plain.
LXXXII. - THE ROSEBUD.
Each morn bedecks the tulip's face with dew,
And tender violets are bent downward too;
But, best of all the rosebud is to me,
Whose closely gathered skirts show nothing through.
LXXXIII. - THE EMPTY GLASS.
Friends, when ye meet the waning day to crown
With mirth and wine, remember I am gone;
And as - poor helpless one! - my turn comes round
For drinking - turn a goblet upside down.
LXXXVI. - "FOLLOW ME."
If thou desirest Him - this shalt thou find –
Wife, child, and friend must all be left behind;
Alone into the wilderness depart,
And every burden from thy back unbind.
LXXXIX. - THE POTTER.
Within the crowded market yesterday
I saw a potter pounding lumps of clay
That said, in mystic tongue "We were as thou,
And thou shalt be as we - deal gently, pray!"
XCIV. - THE CHESS HOARD.
Now I speak plain - not parables alone –
Heaven plays; we are the pieces; naught is known;
We're moved across the Board of Life, then fall
Into the box of Nothing, one by one.
XCVIII. - THE TWO LOGS.
Come, fill the cup, for day breaks white as snow;
Learn colour from the wine in ruby-glow;
Bring me two logs of aloe and make one
Into a lute the other burn below.
CI. - COUNSEL.
I give thee counsel - listen unto me;
For sake of Heaven wear not hypocrisy;
Hereafter ends not; Time is but a day;
For that one day, sell not Eternity.
CIII. - POTS AND POTTER.
Into a potter's shop I went last night,
And saw two thousand pots, to left and right;
Some spoke aloud, some sadly held their peace,
But one, aggressive, cried with all his might –
"Who makes the pots? That's what I want to know;
Who buys us, standing in ignoble row?
Who has the right to sell us? - tell me that;
And when we're sold, where is it that we go?"