Thompson, E.F. [1906]

The quatrains of Omar Khayyam of Nishapur. Translated from the Persian into English verse, including quatrains now for the first time so rendered by Eben Francis Thompson. With an introduction by Nathan Haskell Dole. [S.l., s.n.], 1906

Let not your soul in Sorrow's clasp be prest,
Nor let your days be filled with vain unrest;
The book, the loved one's lips and marge of mead
Forsake not ere Earth fold you in her breast.

I'll counsel give, if you will list to me,
Don not the garment of Hypocrisy,
This life is but a breath, the next all time.
For that one breath sell not Eternity.

Drink wine! for when to dust your body turns,
Your clay becomes thereafter cups and urns,
Of Hell or Heaven reck not, for pray why should
A wise man be deceived in such concerns?

No night my cry doth not reach Gemini,
That my tears' current flows not to the sea;
''After to-morrow'' say'st ''I'll drink with thee?"
Life e'en that morrow may not reach for me!

This vase like me a hapless lover pined
In snares of beauty's tresses once confined;
This handle on its neck you see was once
An arm oft round the loved one's neck entwined.

On that Day when the good rewards receive,
May I, a suppliant sot, a share derive!
Let the Fates count me with the good, if good.
Or with the bad, if bad, may They forgive!

So go about that men salute thee ne'er;
With folk live that from comment they forbear;
So enter mosques that they ne'er summon thee
In front, nor thee appoint to lead in prayer!

Whose heart so ever love lights, whether he
The mosque attend or church frequenter be.
Hath his name written in the book of Love
From thought of Paradise or Hell set free.

The idol spoke thus to the devotee,
"Dost thou know how thou cam'st to worship me?"
"Through me His beauty hath He caused to shine,
Who, oh my witness, vision gives to thee."

Where in yon palace Bahram wine-cup prest.
The roe bears young, the lion oft takes rest.
King Bahram who in noose oft caught the Gur,
See how the Gur hath Bahram caught at last!

Since long in earth you 'll sleep, the goblet drain.
For far from friend, mate, consort, you 'll remain.
Take care this secret you do not reveal,
"No withered tulip ever blooms again."

O, thou! whose cheeks surpass the eglantine!
Whose lovely face outvies the maids of Chin!
Thy one glance giv'n my fond king yestere'en
Moved knight and bishop, castle, pawns and queen!

Life's caravan moves on in mystery,
Seize then the joyous moments as they fly.
Why fret, boy, o'er the morrow of thy friends?
Bring forth the cup, for night is hast'ning by!

To him who o'er his sins doth easy seem,
Let pious people make this point their theme;
"To say 'God's wisdom is the cause of sin,'
To men of sense seems ignorance extreme."

Zealots know not as we Thy clemency;
The stranger as the friend cannot know Thee;
Thou say'st, "If thou sin I 'll cast thee to Hell."
Tell that to him who knows not Thee as we.

Though creeds some two and seventy there be,
The first of creeds I hold is love of Thee;
What of obedience, Islam, unfaith, sin?
Thou 'rt all my aim, the rest be far from me!

Last night, wine flown, the tavern passing, I
A graybeard, drunk and jar on back, did spy,
I said, "Old man, 'fore God, have you no shame?"
"From God comes mercy, drink!" was his reply.

The Sun flings morning's noose o'er dome and tower,
Day's king Khosrau, wine in the bowl doth pour;
Drink! For the rising Herald of the Morn
Greeting the days proclaims the dawning hour.

Arise and come, for my heart's solace, pray
This state of doubt with thy charm take away.
And bring a jug of wine that we may drink
Ere potters fashion wine-jars from our clay!

Destiny's curtain none can penetrate,
Nor learn the hidden mysteries of Fate,
Seventy-two years I 've pondered day and night,
Nor solve aught—long the tale were to relate!

I drink my wine, for men like me of sense
In God's sight 'tis of little consequence;
He knew it at the first, if I drink not
Sheer ignorance would be God's prescience!

O, Kh'aja! grant us one wish, only one.
Be still! with our affairs with God have done!
We walk aright, 't is you who see awry.
Go you and cure your sight, leave us alone!

Heaven whispered to my spirit secretly,
"The fixed decrees of Fate learn thou from me.
If I in my own turnings had a hand.
Myself from dizziness I 'd have set free!"

A cup! for He who did this clay combine,
Of love and drink on our heads wrote the line;
With beauties and with wine the world is filled,
But only promised are Heaven's maids and wine!

Wash me with grape juice when life ebbs away,
And "parting words" with wine and wine-cup say;
If me ye 'd find on Resurrection Morn,
In dust of tavern thresholds seek my clay.

Since no one can the morrow guarantee.
To-day this woeful heart make glad in thee;
Drink wine in moonlight, O Moon, for the moon
Will shine full often nor find thee nor me.

Love, though a curse, is made so by God's sway,
Then why should God His blight upon us lay?
Since Good and Bad are creatures of His will
Why for His slaves hath He a Reck'ning Day?

Cupbearer, bowl and wine by marge of dell
Are Heaven enough for me and thee as well;
Hear not from any talk of Hell or Heaven,
For whoe'er came from Heaven or went to Hell?

Who brings thee to me rapt at close of day.
Who leads thee from the harem on thy way?
To him who in thine absence burns as fire.
When leaps the wind, who brings thee to me, pray?

I know not of the Heavens' turning, aught,
Nor save by spite of Fortune am I taught;
And when I ponder on my own affairs,
A lifetime passeth and yet I know naught.

Do thou charm every heart with wooing art.
And gain at court a friend to take thy part;
A hundred Ka'bahs equal not one heart,
Why seek the Ka'bah? rather gain a heart.

Though hue and fragrance their delights bestow,
My form as cypress, cheeks as tulips show,
I know not wherefore my Artificer
Arrays me thus in Earth's abode of woe.

Love is chief volume of the world of thought;
The burden of youth's song with Love is fraught;
Learn then this point that Life, in truth, is Love
Oh, thou, who of the world of Love know'st naught!

Whene'er the cup of wine in hand I drain.
And lost in drink to ecstasy attain,
I do a hundred wonders of all sorts
Verse flows like water from my fiery brain.

To-day is but a breath, so drink pure wine.
Once gone, thou 'It never find this life of thine.
Be lost in drink both day and night, since thou
Know'st well the world to ruin doth incline.

The rose said ** Nothing with my face can vie."
“Yet as rose-water crushed at last am I!"
"Count every day you laugh as 't were a year!”
The nightingale did fittingly reply.

What time of halting here falls to our share
Yields nothing save anxiety and care;
Alas! that not one problem solved, we go
And that a thousand griefs at heart we bear!

From wine-house haunt came voice ere rise of sun,
“Ho! Tavern lounger! Mad, besotted one!
Up! That the measure we may fill with wine,'
"Or e'er for us the measure Fate o'errun!"

Prosper, 'tis not because by thee 'twas planned;
Fail, it is not thy lacking, understand;
Bow thee to Fate, submit and live content,
The world 's nor good nor ill at thy command!

Be lovers aye enrapt, in fantasy,
Distraught, dishonored, touched with lunacy;
Sober, we fret and fume o'er everything.
But drunk, say, "Let whatever will be, be!"

For God's sake in this house of vanities
With what hope sets his heart on wealth the wise?
Whene'er he wishes to sit down to rest.
Death grasps him by the hand and bids him rise.

That fair for whom my heart hath longing vain,
Herself forlorn, some other doth enchain;
Where shall I seek a balm to ease my pain?
Since my physician sick herself is ta'en?

The Koran though as ''Word sublime" read o'er.
Men sometimes on its page, but not long, pore;
There is a bright verse in the cup's lines, for
Within men everywhere read, evermore.

If you drink not, at sots take no offence,
Did God give grace, I would show penitence;
''You drink not?" You commit a hundred deeds
That make my tippling boyish innocence!

O, you, come hot from that soul world below,
Amazed amid what Five, Four, Six, Sev'n show,
Drink wine, for whence you come you do not know,
Rejoice! you know not whither you will go.

Where is the smoke of our fire here, O, pray?
Where profit of our stock-in-trade's array?
To him who "Tavern-haunter" me doth call,
O, where in truth here is the tavern, say?

One wine draught to earth's kingdom doth compare
And to a thousand lives, the lid of jar!
The cloth with which one wipes wine from the lips
Is worth the scarfs a thousand preachers wear!

Why grieve so much at worldly envy, pray?
Have you e'er seen the man who lives for aye?
This one breath in your body is a loan,
With which you should live ready to repay.

So far as lies in you cause no one pain.
Lest any you inflame, your wrath restrain;
If you desire to have eternal peace.
Though vexed, from wronging any man refrain.

O Thou, whose love and wrath made all that be.
And Heaven and Hell through all eternity.
Thou hast Thy court in Heaven and I have naught.
Why then in Heaven is there no way for me?

I 'll drink so much wine that its sweet bouquet,
Shall when 'neath earth I go, rise from the clay
That when some reveller passes o'er my dust.
Drunk from my wine fumes he shall reel away.

The fish to duck in droughty season said,
“What if this stream should run back in its bed?"
“When you and I are roasted," quoth the duck,
"What matters stream, what mirage once we 're dead?”'

To this lost haunt with wine and love we fare,
And pledge for drink, soul, heart, cup, raiment there.
And quit of mercy's hope and fear of law.
We 're freed from earth and water, fire and air!

Since All is unsubstantial as the air
And naught save loss and ruin; whatsoe'er
Exists in this world, think doth not exist,
And what on earth is not, imagine there.

From doubt to certainty is but a breath,
A breath from unfaith's halting place to faith,
This precious breath then do you cherish, for
Life's sum is but a breath from birth to death.

O Heaven's wheel! Ruin is thine ill behest,
Thine ancient custom ever has opprest;
O Earth! If e'er thy bosom they should bare.
Full many a valued gem would deck thy breast!

O thou, for me of all earth set apart!
More sweet to me than eye-sight, soul and heart!
There's naught more dear than life, O Idol! yet
A hundred times more dear to me thou art!

This two or three days' lifetime passeth on.
Like mountain stream or desert blast 't is flown;
Still there are two days that I reckon not.
The day to come and that already gone!

That precious ruby 's from another mine.
That single pearl doth bear another sign.
The thought of this and that is vain conceit.
Love's tale hath other tongue than mine or thine.

When showers of Spring the tulips' cheeks overflow
Arise and to the wine-cup haste to go,
For this green where thou sport'st to-day, perchance
On some near morrow from thy dust may grow.

Now 't is young manhood's season, I design,
Since it makes glad my heart, to quaff my wine.
Chide not the grape, though bitter yet 't is sweet,
'T is bitter since it is this life of mine.

O Heart! since 'tis your fate that blood must flow,
Your state each moment change must undergo;
What brought you. Soul, into my body, since
The end of all your strife, is forth to go!

To-day is thine, the morrow’s not for thee,
Thy care for morrows naught but grief will be;
Nor waste this breath if thy soul 's not distraught,
For what remains of life will quickly flee.

To wine submissive we the head incline,
And pledge our souls its laughing lip to join;
So our cup-bearer turns the flagon's throat;
So sparkles from cup's lip the soul of wine.

Knock not in vain at each door in your way.
With worldly good and ill contented stay,
Whate'er the number on the dice of Fate
From the Sphere's cup that falls, you needs must play.

From zephyrs when my heart thy fragrance takes,
It seeks and grasps thy nature, me forsakes,
And now there comes no thought to it of me.
For thy scent ta'en, its own thy nature makes!

The day and night were long ere thou or I,
Or on its wheeling course revolved the sky;
Ah, softly set thy foot upon this dust,
'T was once the apple of some beauty's eye!

The idol house is as the mosque, a shrine.
And chime of striking bells service divine;
Gueber's belt, church and rosary and cross,
Each is in truth of worshiping a sign.

Fate's marks upon the tablet still remain
As first, the Pen unmoved by bliss or bane;
In fate whate'er must be it did ordain,
To grieve or to resist is all in vain.

Delights of both worlds revellers' bowls confine,
The sun etern in moonlit cups doth shine;
The secret hidden in creation's soul.
If it you'd know, bides in a glass of wine.

I cannot to both good and bad unfold
My secret, nor may long tales soon be told;
I am unable to explain my state
Or to reveal the secret that I hold.

With us base coins we no more current keep,
A broom our pleasure house of such doth sweep.
A sage forth from the Tavern comes, and cries,
"Drink wine, since for long ages ye must sleep."

To change the written scroll there is no power.
And grieving only makes your heart bleed sore.
Though anguish all your life consume your blood.
You cannot add to it one drop the more.

Naught save submission to God's will below.
Naught with mankind except pretense and show
Avails. Yea, every ruse that wit could find
I vainly tried, but Fate could ne'er o'erthrow.

My kin 's my foe if he against me sin;
The stranger proving faith becomes my kin;
If poison help me, 't is my antidote,
My poison then is baneful medicine.

No heart but bleeds at severance from Thee,
For Thee distraught are all who clearly see;
And though Thou heed'st not any man's desire,
There 's none that longeth not with Thee to be!

Seek aye the kalenders' mad tavern train,
Nor aught but wine, loved one and music's strain,
Nor cup from hand nor jar from shoulder set;
Drink wine, O sweetheart! nor hold discourse vain!

When God of clay and water us did knead,
At Fate's blows suppliants He made us indeed;
Still why forbid us wine? an empty hand
Is all the prohibition that we need.

Those who the head did in Death's slumber lay
Question and answer 'scape till Judgment Day.
How long say '' None bring back news from the dead?"
What news should they give back since naught know they?

From mirth while I am sober, I am freed.
When I am drunk good sense I sadly need;
There is a state 'twixt drunk and sober quite,
I am its slave since 't is my life indeed.

The framework of the cup He did unite.
To break in rage how should God deem it right?
So many comely heads, feet, hands and arms!
Shaped by what love, and broke in what despite?

Upon a roof I saw a man alone
Trampling some clay in scorn ; in mystic tone
The clod besought the man, " Be gentle, pray,
For thou like me wilt be much trampled on."

As tulip in the Spring her cup lifts, so
With tulip-cheeked fair, if chance serve, do you.
And drink in gladness ere yon azure sphere
Like whirlwind suddenly doth lay you low.

I will arise intent pure wine to sip,
My cheek's hue make red as the loved one's lip;
This busy mind—a fist well filled with wine
Into its face I'll throw to make it sleep!

Death's fear and mortal thoughts give life to thee,
And if not thence grows Life's eternal tree.
Since Jesus breathed new life into my soul
Eternal Death hath washed his hands of me!

Since Life's affairs move not to our desire.
Of what avail our efforts, pray inquire.
Here sit we haunted by regret for this.
We came so late, and must so soon expire.

Khayyam, O why for sin this grief and shame?
What gain in mourning thus yourself to blame?
He knows not gracious mercy who sins not.
Why grieve? It was for sin that mercy came.

A cloud veil shadows still the face of rose,
Desire for wine my heart and nature knows.
Give wine O sweetheart, for the sun yet shines.
Go not to sleep, what time is 't for repose?

For none is there a way behind the veil.
Who tries to pierce its secrets but doth fail?
The only place of rest is earth's dark breast,
Alas, that far from short should be the tale!

In this vain world, our place of brief sojourn,
Much have I searched, but this is all I learn:
No cypress e'er can match thy form, no moon
As radiant as thy face do I discern.

In convent, school, cell, church, whate'er the creed
Are those in fear of Hell, and Heaven in need:
But he who knows the mysteries of God,
Within his heart sows not this fruitless seed.

The world thou see'st, all 's naught that thou dost see.
And everything that 's said or heard by thee;
Thou coursest Heaven from pole to pole, ’t is naught.
Naught all thou hast in thy home’s treasury!

I dreamt that Wisdom came to me and said,
''In sleep for none joy's roses petals spread,
In life why dost thou mimic death? Arise!
For sleep thou must when 'neath earth is thy bed."

If as it is, the heart life's secrets knew.
In death, 't would know the Heav'nly secrets too;
But now that with yourself you nothing know.
To-morrow, from self parted, what know you?

Upon that day when sundered is the sky.
And darkened is the stars' bright galaxy.
Upon the plain I'll seize Thy skirt and cry,
“For what sin. Idol, doom'st Thou me to die?"

Your secrets from all knaves you should conceal;
Nor should you mysteries to fools reveal;
Your hopes you should keep close from all mankind;
See you be careful how with men you deal.

Saki, since Time would shatter me and thee,
The world's no resting place for thee and me;
Yet so the wine cup stands between us, know
We have the Truth at hand for certainty.

We 've spent life pleasure bent mid flowers and wine,
Yet Fortune ne'er supplied one need of mine;
Though drink hath not accomplished my desire.
Ne'er doth the traveller to turn back incline.

Set wine in my hand for my heart 's ahght,
For swift as quicksilver this life takes flight;
Know that youth's fire as water is, arise!
For Fortune's waking is a dream of night!

Of this wine, drink, for it is life etern;
The source of youthful pleasure, it doth burn
Like fire, yet drink, for to the Well of Life
The briny tears of Sorrow it doth turn!

Unfit to mosque or synagogue to go,
God only of what clay I 'm mixed can know;
Like sceptic dervish or like ugly bawd.
No hope have I above, no faith below.

My wont is to drink wine, live joyously,
My creed, from doubt and dogma to be free;
I asked the world-bride " Tell me what ’s thy dower?"
"My dowry is thy happy heart,'' said she.

Thy spirit to a house-dog's well compares,
'T is empty clamor that for naught else cares;
It has the tiger's rage and wolfish craft,
'T is fox-like and it gives the sleep of hares.

Each tuft of green the river brims display.
As down on angel's lip doth grow, you'd say;
Ah, trample not this turf! for every blade
Springs from some lovely tulip-cheeked one's clay!

One wine draught's better than the realm of Kaius
Throne of Kobad or heritage of Tus,
More worth each sigh the lover breathes at morn
Than hypocritic zealots' shouts profuse.

Though for my sin I bad and luckless prove,
I 'll not despair as heathen who do rove
From shrine, but on the morn I die from drink
Be't Heaven or Hell I 'll wish wine and my love!

A corner and two loaves our choice make we.
We 've put aside earth's pomp and vanity;
We have bought poverty with heart and soul,
In poverty great riches do we see!

If to your tress tip I do violence,
(To speak the truth and in no mystic sense.)
Caught in your curl I see my heart distraught
To play with my own heart is no offense.

When comes the final day for me and thee
And pure from out the body then pass we,
When we 're no more, from yon blue dome full oft
The moon will shine on dust of thee and me!

All that 's not grape juice better to eschew,
Better one old wine draught than empire new;
Cups hundred times than realms of Feridun,
The wine-jar lid than crown of Kai Khosrau!

My drinking wine is not for pleasure's sake,
Nor sin, nor law of God or man to break.
An instant ecstasy to gain doth cause
My revelling and me enrapt doth make.

ve With us the moments drag, thy lovers we.
Beside themselves, thy mourners pine for thee;
When to our window shall thy sun return?
For more num'rous than motes thy longers be.

He 's doomed to Hell, they say, who drinketh wine,.
A saying 't is the heart cannot divine.
For if all sots and lovers go to Hell,
Heaven will be empty as this palm of mine!

O Sweetheart! Heaven or Hell none e'er did see,
The man returned from that world, where is he?
Our hopes and fears, O Heart, arise from what
Nowise save name or trace appears to be.

Wrong in Shaban, they say, 't is to drink wine.
Likewise in Rajab, 'tis a month divine.
Since Allah and His Prophet claim these months.
Through Ramazan I 'll drink, for it is mine!

From far came one with body foul to see.
The shirt he wore of Hell's smoke seemed to be;
He broke my flask (may his life lack!), and then
''As this fine wine, so boasting man!" said he.

Many 's the garb of being Heaven doth sew
Each night, and then its breast doth rend in two ;
Many 's the joy and sorrow Time each day
Brings from the waters, bears to earth below.

Within the cup that flowing gem of thine.
As liquid rubies, Saki, cause to shine.
Place, boy, within my hand, a stoup well filled.
That thus I may revive this soul of mine.

Dawn beareth night's dark curtain from the skies;
The Magian wine bring quickly, Saki, rise!
Then up ! for thy sleep will be long enough;
Yea, open those sleep-stained narcissus eyes!

The world 't is called, this ancient hostelry,
The piebald resting place of Night and Day,
The banquet by a hundred Jamsheds left,
The tomb wherein a hundred Bahrams lay.

Now that Joy's roses fairest bloom attain.
Why from the cup your idle hand restrain?
Drink wine, since Time is a perfidious foe.
It were hard finding such a day again.

Again the clouds come and the meads revive —
Without red wine I 'd not an instant live —
This turf that now is my delight until
The grass from my dust joy to whom shall give?

To-day 's Adina called in common phrase,
Drink wine from bowls then, in the wine-cup's place;
And if you drink on week days but one bowl.
To-day drink two, for 'tis the chief of days.

That wine that 's apt in transformation,
That 's plant form now and animal anon.
Deem not its essence ever suffers change.
Itself abides, although its forms be gone.

My soul the past regretting dwells in woe;
The morrow's fears do cleave my heart in two;
But once this my existence be set free.
Fear, anguish and regret together go.

That one on whom you do so much rely,
You 'll find a foe if you ope wisdom's eye.
It were good in this age to choose few friends,
Holding aloof from people's company.

O, fool! Naught is this image that man wears,
And naught yon vault of nine parti-hued spheres;
Be glad that in this house of life and death
A breath we hang on, which as naught appears!

If there be minstrel, Houri, wine for thee.
And purling steam beside the flowery lea.
Desire not better, nor fire burnt out Hell,
There is no Heaven beside, if Heaven there be.

A graybeard, drunk, forth from the inn did fare
Wine cup in hand, bearing a mat for prayer
On shoulder. "Shaikh!" I cried, “How comes this state?"
“Drink wine! " quoth he, "for worldly things are air!”

When rapt, the bulbul to the garden flew.
Rose faces, smiling wine cups met his view;
Then sang he in mine ear in ecstasy,
"Know, life once flown, can ne'er be found by you!"

Khayyam, a tent thy body typifies.
Where its Sultan, the soul, a brief time lies.
And Death's ferrash for its next halting-place
Doth strike this tent when its Sultan doth rise.

Khayyam, who stitched tents of philosophy,
In Grief's fire fallen, was burnt suddenly,
Death's shears cut his life's tent rope; he was sold
For nothing by the broker. Destiny.

In Spring-time if with one as Houri fair.
To verdant bank with wine-jar I repair,
Though bad some think it, I were worse than dog
If thought of Paradise e'er enter there.

In Joy's cup sweet is wine of rosy ray.
And sweet the sound of lute and tuneful lay;
The bigot lacking knowledge of the bowl, —
'T is sweet when he 's a thousand leagues away!

Life far from wine and saki lacketh zest,
And wanting Irac's flute notes 'tis unblest;
I find howe'er the world's state I survey
The sum of all is pleasure, naught the rest.

Since from your soul you separate, then know
Behind God's secret veil you will go, too ;
Drink wine! for you know not whence you have come;
Be jocund ! for you know not where you go!

Since go we must, of what avail to be?
To plod the path of vain expectancy?
Since Fate no pause for counsel gives, to rest
What boots it from that journey's thought care free?

My life-long practice is to praise the Vine
And round me have the instruments of wine ;
Zealot ! if Reason guide thee here, be glad
Thy master is a pupil apt of mine!

If you will tread in Passion's steps, know you
From me that thence you will go helpless too;
Remember who you are and whence you came.
Consider where you go and what you do.

The sky, a vault, spans our worn lives below;
Jihun a course from our strained eyes aflow;
Hell is a spark struck by our vain distress;
Heaven but an instant when content we know.

I 'm a rebellious slave, Thy mercy show !
Make my dark soul all Thy pure light to know!
If Heaven Thou giv'st us for obedience,
A wage 'tis, where 's the bounty Thou 'd bestow?

I’m a rebellious slave, where is Thy mercy ?
My soul is dark, where is Thy light and purity ?
If Heaven Thou giv’st us for obedience,
It is a wage, where is Thy grace and bounty ?

I know not whether Allah fashioned me
For Heaven or in a horrid Hell to be;
Cup, lute and loved one by the garden side,
All three my cash. Heaven's credit then for thee!

I quaff wine and from right and left come those
Who say, “Drink not wine which doth Faith oppose."
By Allah! since I know Faith's foe is wine,
'T is right that I should drink the blood of foes!

The good and evil in man's mortal mould,
The joy and grief that Fate and Fortune hold,
Impute not to the skies, for reasoned well,
More helpless they than thou a thousand fold!

Shields naught avail when by Death's arrows prest,
And honors naught, silver and gold possest;
As far as I view worldly things, I see
Goodness alone is good and naught the rest.

The heart on little set save worldly gain,
For life to be Regret's weak mate is fain;
Besides the mind serene and free from care.
All others only hold the seeds of pain.

No single day lost from his life hath flown,
Within whose heart the seed of cheer is sown;
Whether he seeks obedience to God's will,
Or cup in hand in ease doth choose his own.

When God of our existence shaped the clay.
He knew our actions would be as His sway;
Without His mandate was no sin of mine,
Then why doom me to burn on Judgment Day?

A week thou hast drunk wine continually,
Do not on Friday, then, put it from thee.
In our creed Friday, Saturday, are one,
God worship, from day worshiping be free.

Lord, Thou art gracious, grace 't is to be kind,
The sinner forth from Iram why consigned?
To pardon for obedience is not grace;
In pardon for rebellion grace I find.

See that the false world doth not thee ensnare.
Sit not secure ! Fate's sword is sharp, take care!
If Fortune drop a sweetmeat in thy mouth.
Swallow it not, 'tis poison mixed, beware!

Where'er there is a rose or tulip bed.
From some King's blood it takes its hue of red ;
Each violet leaf that springs from earth was once
A mole that decked the cheek of some fair maid.

Drink wine, for it is life etern, in sooth,
The fruitage of the season of thy youth ;
'T is time of roses, wine and mellow friends,
Rejoice the while, for this is life, in truth.

In our heart, Saki, is sown love of thee
Which would keep hidden to eternity.
Spread not from pride thy skirt 'gainst worthy prayers
For from it our hand ne'er will loosened be.

When they say Houris' nuptials pleasant are,
“The juice of grapes is pleasant!" I aver;
Take this cash then and let that credit go,
For pleasant is the drum beat,—heard afar!

My spirit whispered, “I crave Heavenly lore;
Instruct me then I beg if thou hast power."
Quoth I, “Alif will do, to him who knows
One letter is enough, seek thou no more!"

Since coming at the first was naught of mine,
And I unwilling go by fixed design,
Cupbearer, rise ! and quickly gird thy loins!
For worldly sorrows I 'll wash down in wine!

How long shall I make bricks upon the sea?
Idolater and temple weary me;
Who says Khayyam in Hell is sure to be?
Sometimes to Hell, sometimes to Heaven goes he.

Spring's breath the rose's face doth sweetly woo,
A charmer's face makes sweet the garden too;
To talk of yesterday were sad. Rejoice!
To-day is sweet ! of past days speak not you!

Spring’s breath upon the rose’s face is sweet,
In the garden plot a heart-enkindling face is sweet,
Of yesterday that is past whatever you may say is not sweet,
Rejoice ! nor speak of yesterday for to-day is sweet !

What place is this for talk ? Arise, pour wine!
To-night thy pouting lips are food for mine.
Pour wine rose-colored as thy cheeks ! For this
My vow 's disturbed as is that curl of thine.

Beyond the skies from all eternity.
My soul sought Tablet, Pen, Heaven, Hell to see;
At length the master wisely said to me,
“Pen, Tablet, Heaven and Hell are all in thee!"

Now o'er the earth that joyousness prevails,
Each living heart the fields with yearning hails;
On each branch is the show of Moses' hand.
And every zephyr Jesus' sigh exhales.

The Khan's crown let us sell and crest of Kai,
Turban and muslin for the pipe's soft lay;
Then for one wine-draught let us sell at once
The chaplet, courier of deceit's array.

Out on that heart wherein love hath no sway
Nor love-mad to the witching one a prey;
The day that thou dost pass devoid of love.
For thee is none more wasted than that day.

Rejoice with wine for 't is as Mahmud's reign,
List to the lute that sounds as David's strain;
Be glad to-day, for 'tis to be desired.
Of past or future think thou not again.

Ten Powers and Nine Spheres, Eight Heavens enrolled.
And Planets Seven of Six Sides He enscrolled;
From Senses Five, Four Elements, Three Souls, God
In Two Worlds, man ! like thee but ONE did mould!

Though silver store the wise doth not avail,
And moneyless, earth's garden 's but a jail.
With purse of gold the haughty rose doth smile.
While empty-handed droops the violet frail.

As I the potters' quarter pass some day,
I 'll think myself a pot 'mid pots' array;
They yet may make a wine-jar I may drain
Before to potters I present my clay.

Before the grave doth take its fill of me,
Or e'er all my parts prostrate scattered be,
O, wine, from flagon's tomb uplift thy head,
My dead soul may become alive to thee!

Stern Fate hath blood of many a mortal shed.
And leaves of many a new-blown rose wide spread;
Of youth and beauty be not proud, O boy!
For many a bud's strewn o'er the garden bed!

Save Truth, no law is fit to rule the wise
No life is fit that His command defies;
Whatever is, is as it had to be.
And naught exists that should be otherwise.

This golden bowl, and vault of azure hue,
Full oft have rolled and will the ages through;
And likewise, we, impelled by turns of Fate,
Like others come, and go like others, too.

Since God did set in order Nature's frame.
Why should He cast it down in scorn and shame?
If good, how comes it He doth break His work?
And if not good, why are these shapes to blame?

Kindness to friend and foe, 'tis well to show,
Then how will he whose nature 's good, ill do ?
The friend whom you ill-treat your foe becomes,
But kindness changes to a friend, your foe.

To Wisdom's eye what matters foul or fair.
Or if the lovelorn silk or sackcloth wear ?
What brick or pillow under lovers' heads?
To Heaven or Hell bound what do lovers care?

Drink wine, for e'en in winter you may see
The world's wits' wine sweat down their necks roll free.
How say '' Broken 's your vow"? A hundred vows
Than one wine flask far better broken be!

The flowers blossom, Vintner, wine bring me!
Your hand withhold from acts of piety;
These few days ere Doom trap us, we 'll enjoy
The red wine and the loved one's company.

We’ve traversed many a vale and desert plain,
And did all quarters of the world attain;
But heard of none who came this road, the way
The traveller goes, he comes not back again.

The Tavern prospers from our drinking wine.
Blood of remorse be on thy head and mine.
If I ne'er sinned, what then would Mercy do?
For Mercy but awaits my sin and thine.

Lo, from the world what vantage have I gained? Naught.
What profit of my life in hand retained ? 'Naught.
I 'm Jamshed's bowl, but what when 't is crushed? Naught.
Joy's torch am I, what when its light has waned? Naught.

When at life's brink, what's Balkh, what's Nishapur?
What sweet or bitter when the cup brims o'er?
Drink wine for many a moon will wax and wane
Through changing months when we are here no more.

A cup of rubies pure give, Saki, pray!
That my heart's fire its liquid may allay.
While Reason, boy, shall grasp my spirit's rein,
Still on the skirt of wine my hand shall stay!

Devotion profits not the devotee,
For practice, Saki, proves it certainly;
The flowing beaker fill, boy, quickly, for
Whatever is, is from eternity.

He who earth, sky and heaven did array.
Full many a scar on grieving hearts doth lay.
And many a ruby lip and musky tress
Hath buried in earth's treasure chest of clay.

Oh, fools, the world's allurements do not buy
Since ye know her conditions certainly;
Your precious lifetime give not to the winds.
Haste to drink wine and to the loved one fly!

O, my companions, nourish me with wine !
This amber-hued face make like rubies shine;
When I am dead, wash me with wine, and shape
My coffin planks from timber of the vine!

The Day They girthed the coursers of the sky,
The Pleiads decked and Jupiter on high,
This lot of ours was writ in Fate's divan.
Why blame us since Heaven wrought our destiny?

Alas! the “raw" oft well cooked viands eat.
The “incomplete" have worldly gear complete,
And that mere boys and lackeys should possess
The smiles of charming Turkish beauties sweet.

He first in weakness me to being brought,
And save amaze to life hath added aught;
Unwilling we depart, and whence is this
Our coming, being, going, we know naught.

When o'er my mind doth pass my sins' disgrace.
From my breast's fire, tears trickle down my face.
Yet meet 't is always when a slave repents
The master should grant pardon of his grace.

What time before the pride of life had flown.
It seemed to me few secrets were unknown;
Since modest grown, I see in reason's way.
My life is spent and naught is surely known.

They who 've become the flower of all mankind,
Drive to the zenith the Borac of Mind,
Yet in Thy essence' knowledge like Heaven's wheel
Themselves, heads dazed, o'erturned and whirling, find!

Now that of pleasures only names remain,
No old friend left, and but new wine to drain.
To-day when, save the cup, naught is at hand.
Then from the flask do not Joy's hand restrain.

O, long the world will last when gone are we.
Without a name or trace of thee or me;
Before, we were not,—and there was no void,—
And after, when we 're not, the same 'twill be.

Those who have worn the earth beneath their tread,
Who seeking Him o'er both the worlds have sped,
I never have been told that they this case
Have as it is, aright interpreted.

Since God in Paradise hath promised wine.
Why in both worlds is 't banned by law divine?
Some Arab hamstrung Hamzah's camel once.
For this our Prophet drinking did enjoin.

In rose-time, king, how should a man like me
Forbear from minstrel, wine and company?
The garden, wine-jar, lute-player better are
Than Houris, Heaven and Kausar's stream will be.

If thy cheek idol be, idolatry
And thy cup's drinking is more sweet to me,
Love-drunken for that reason I 've become,
Since than a thousand lives 't will sweeter be.

Alas! that riches from our hands have fled,
And blood of many a heart Death's hand hath shed.
And from that world comes none that I may ask
“How fare the travelers who have thither sped?"

Strange all these nobles who high honors have.
In pain and grief of their lives quittance crave.
And yet they hardly reckon as a man
Him who unlike them is not Passion's slave.

Oppressive from the first this wheel on high
Will ne'er for any one his knot untie,
Where'er a wounded heart it doth espy,
To add another wound it straight doth try.

Would'st Life's foundations find secure to be?
And in this world awhile the heart care free?
From drinking wine sit not apart, and so
Life's pleasures ever find vouchsafed to thee.

With rose-hued wine in this abode below,
O wise man, mix your earthy substance so
That each mote of your dust They give the wind,
May wine-soaked to the tavern threshold go!

Whene'er the violet her robe's color shows,
And zephyr spreads the garment of the rose,
He 's wise who drinks with silver-bosomed maids
And on the stones the empty wine-cup throws.

To kiss thy foot, O lamp of my delight!
Than other's lip kisses is better quite!
My hand thy fancy's hem doth clasp all day.
And my foot springs to meet thee every night!

No room for joyance have hearts filled with woe.
Thy loss makes hearts else glad, with grief to flow;
With thee, I this world's bitter have made sweet.
With thy loss' bitterness what shall I do?

Since never may we grasp truth's certainty,
One must all his life long a doubter be.
Let me beware lest I set cup from hand;
Where 's drunk or sober when in ecstasy?

My food for soul and body wine will be,
The solver of each hidden mystery ;
Naught else I seek in this world or the next.
One single draught contains both worlds for me.

Closed is the volume of my youthful day,
And this fresh Spring-time gladness gone for aye;
Yon bird of joy named Youth, ah! I knew not
When here you came nor when you flew away!

With these few feeble folk the world who own,
Who witless, knowledge think is theirs alone,
Be calm, since those not asses such as they,
By them are damned as skeptics every one.

With revellers joyous be the hostelry.
And burnt the pious skirt of devotee;
That hundred-patch coat and blue woolen robe
'Neath feet of dreg-drainers still fallen be!

How long the slave of scent and hue remain?
How long all ill or good seek to attain?
Though Zamzam's fount or from Life's wellspring,thou
Within earth's breast at last wilt sink again.

Till cheering wine the Friend before me place,
No kiss Heaven prints on either foot or face;
They say “Repent in time!" but how repent
Till Allah of His goodness giveth grace?

When I am dead my clay do ye make fine,
That my state be to men a warning sign;
With grape juice wet my body's dust, and shape
Therefrom a cover for a jar of wine.

Khayyam, though of the blue that spans us o'er
The tent be pitched and closed Discussion's door,
The Everlasting Saki in Life's bowl
Thousands of bubbles like Khayyam doth pour.

Since Time will have no bounds, be of good cheer,
The stars will spangle still the Heavenly Sphere;
With bricks that from your body they will mould
Walls of another's dwelling, men will rear.

In wine ablution must in taverns be.
For none a sullied name from blot can free;
Its liquor pour, for none can now repair.
So torn it is, our veil of modesty.

In hope a lifetime to the winds I gave.
Nor one glad day of that time did I have;
From which I fear lest Fate give not enough
Of time to take the justice that I crave.

In life's affairs one should on guard remain,
And speech concerning worldly things restrain,
Be as one lacking tongue and eye and ear.
While ear and tongue and eye you still retain.

Whoso is now of half a loaf possest.
Himself to shelter hath a little nest,
Who slaves for none nor is by any served,
Let him be glad for he hath this world's best.

Naught adds my service to Thy majesty.
And my past sin abateth naught from Thee;
Then pardon and retract not since I know
Thou 'rt slow to blame and swift in clemency.

The juice of grapes may my hand ever bear
And my heart ever long for Houri fair:
They say “God give thee penitence!" He 'll not.
Far be 't from me! Repentance I forswear!

Alas! that book and pulpit hands like mine
Should touch, that hold the flask and cup of wine!
Zealot! thou 'rt dry and I a lover moist,
I ne'er heard wet would catch that fire of thine!

None in this world attains a rose-cheeked fair
Till in his heart Fate driven the thorn he wear;
See, in this comb until a hundred teeth
Were cut, it ne'er might touch the loved one's hair!

When we depart the world is not distressed;
Nor one pierced of a hundred pearls possessed;
Alas! a hundred thousand subtle thoughts
From people's ignorance die unexpressed!

Nor hot nor cold, the air breathes sweet to-day,
And clouds have washed the rose cheeks' dust away;
And ever to pale rose the nightingale
“Thou must drink wine!" in ecstasy doth say.

Ere you the blows of darkling Fate sustain
Bid them to bring you rose-hued wine to drain;
You are not gold, O heedless dolt, that men
Hide you in earth and then dig up again!

My coming brought no profit to the sky,
My going adds not to its majesty
Or pomp, from none have my two ears e'er heard.
Coming or going, the true reason why.

To heavy hearts is wine both plume and wing.
Wine, beauty's mark to wisdom's cheek doth bring;
All Ramazan no drop we've drunk; 'tis past
The Festal night comes, Shawwal ushering.

No night but all bewildered is my soul.
And down my breast tears big as pearls do roll;
My head from grieving is not filled with wine.
For none when 'tis upset can fill the bowl.

Why will you life in self-adorement spend,
Or “Is" and "Is not" strive to comprehend?
Drink ! since Death presses at Life's heels, ’t is best
In dreams or drink it pass on to the end.

Deluded, some fall in their vanity.
Some seeking Houris that are said to be.
But when the veil Fate lifts, it will be seen
How far they 've fall'n from thy way, far from Thee.

In Heaven, they say, dwell dark-eyed Houris fair,
And that pure wine and honey will be there;
If wine and woman we love here, 't is right
Since all the same 's the end of the affair.

My soul in this net drawn, time and again
Shamed of her earth-mate, to be free is fain;
Methought to break this jail, did not my foot
Law's stirrup holding, from the stones restrain.

Wine pour, to dance a mountain 'twould incline;
Lacking indeed is he who lacketh wine;
It is a soul to animate this frame;
How would you bid me then the cup decline?

They 've seen the moon of Ramazan, they say;
Then for a month from drink I 'll turn away;
At next Sha'ban's end so much wine I 'll pour
That drunk they 'll find me till the Festal day!

Life's vintage, now mere dregs, now clear doth run;
We sackcloth wear, and silken garb anon;
All this is of small moment to the sage.
Of slight account since Death is coming on.

None the eternal secrets e'er can trace.
Nor one step, foot beyond his nature place;
From pupil to the master I behold
Those born of woman, weak in every case.

The world crave less and live contentedly,
Of earthly good and evil cut the tie;
Be light of heart as are these circling skies,
A little while they stay, and then pass by.

There will be at the Rising, they pretend,
A parleying, and hasty our dear Friend;
From perfect goodness naught save good can come.
Be light of heart, 't will be well in the end.

A thousand devotees one cup of wine
Is worth and one wine-draught the realm of Chin,
Its bitter is a thousand sweet lives worth.
What sweeter on the face of earth hath been?

O, Soul, seek not the frail ones' company.
And cease with love affairs engrossed to be.
Frequent the doorways of the Dervishes,
Then the Elect may make a choice of thee.

From thought of wealth or want the heart to free,
And two and seventy Creeds' perplexity,
Drink wine, for take one draught, a thousand ills
It cures, forswear not then its alchemy.

To drink wine though forbidden, yet this ban
Is as to measure, company and man;
These three conditions being right, then say,
If wine a wise man cannot drink, who can?

A one-maund cup of wine I 'll brimming make.
Yea, of two cups of rich wine I 'll partake;
First, Faith and Reason I will thrice divorce.
Then the Grape's daughter for my bride I 'll take.

Cupbearer, since to Life there is no guide,
Better than wine and cup there 's naught beside.
Of old, it is our friend, for no such fire
Doth in Life's stream or Kausar's fount abide.

The sigh that to no friend escapes from me,
The word that to no mate could spoken be.
If I found any heard excepting Thee,
In truth, I should expire instantly.

Than Jamshed's bowl thy cheek, boy, is more fair;
Than Life Etern thy way's Death better were;
To every dust mote of thy foot that lights
My face, ten myriad suns could not compare!

Boy, of that wine that is my faith and soul,
A cup ! for 't is of my sweet life the whole;
If it is not your wont to quaff its juice,
'Tis mine with sweetheart fair to drain the bowl.

What time the rising dawn's blue light doth shine.
Your hand should grasp the goblet of pure wine;
They say the truth tastes bitter in the mouth.
It must be ''Truth" is wine then, by this sign.

'T is time when earth its tender verdure wears.
And Musa-like froth on the bough appears,
The clouds open their eyes in vernal showers.
And Jesus' breathing ones the earth uprears.

Thy body burden not with toil and pain
White silver store or yellow gold to gain;
The foe will feast on thee, then feast with friends
Or ever thy warm breath wax cold again.

Each draught the cupbearer pours on the clay
Its fire of grief in some eye doth allay;
Praise Allah that you see wine is a juice
That takes your hundred pangs of heart away.

Friends, when in concord ye meet and whene'er
The cupbearer the Magian wine doth bear.
Delighting in each other's charms, O, see
A helpless one ye think on in your prayer!

Not once has Heaven been kind in my affairs,
Nor in my favor with sweet voice declares.
No day breathe I in joy that I 'm not given
Into the clutches of a hundred Cares.

If in two days a loaf of bread one gain.
And water from a broken jar can drain.
Why take commands of one less than yourself?
Or why to serve one like yourself remain?

While Moon and Venus circle in the sky.
Better than ruby wine I naught espy;
I wonder at the wine-sellers, for they,
Better than that they sell what will they buy?

Those strong in virtue and of learning deep,
Whose merits joined lights for their fellows keep
Have found no way out of this darksome night,
They 've told their tale, and then gone back to sleep.

The heavens above from clouds shower eglantine,
You 'd say that blossoms rained upon the green.
In lily cups I 'll turn rose-colored wine.
Since, violet-hued, the clouds pour jessamine.

My aged head by love of thee is caught.
Else why my hand and cup together brought?
My sweetheart broke the vows of reason born.
And Time hath torn the garment Patience wrought.

I 'm not the man whom death doth fill with fear,
That half than this to me hath more of cheer;
To me life is a loan that God hath made.
And I 'l1 repay it when the time is here.

The stars that are the dwellers of these skies,
Occasion much conjecture to the wise,
See you lose not the end of Wisdom's thread.
For those who rule are dizzied with surmise.

The stars that Heaven for a while adorn.
That come and go and back with earth are borne.
Now on Heaven's skirt, now in the pouch of earth.
While God dies not shall aye anew be born.

Those who are slaves of wit and subtle thought,
Fretting o'er "Is" and "Is not" come to naught.
Go, with the wise drink grape-juice, for these fools
From unripe grapes to raisins have been brought.

The sense which bids you Pleasure's path pursue,
Whispers a hundred times a day to you,
“This moment have in mind, for you 're no plant
Which when they mow it down, springs up anew!"

Now Ramazan is past, Shawwal is here.
The time of greeting, feasting, song is near;
'T is time when skins on shoulders they cry out,
"Behold the porters one by one appear!"

All our dear friends have from our handclasp gone,
Beneath the foot of Death fall'n one by one;
They drank with us two or three rounds before
At Life's feast and enrapt lie overthrown.

When in the mould my clay They mixed of old,
With it They mingled evils manifold;
Better than this I am I cannot be,
For as I am They poured me in the mould.

Those joyous ones who of old wine drink deep.
And they who in the prayer-niche vigil keep,
Not one is on dry land, but all at sea,
ONE only wakes, the others are asleep!

My seed They 've with Non-being's water sown,
And from the iire of grief my soul has grown,
And like the wind about the world I 'm blown,
Till They at last my scattered dust have strewn.

Since in this age from wisdom is no gain
And save the thoughtless none Life's wine-cup drain,
Bring forth that juice which reason doth efface,
So Fortune us to favor will be fain.

When the Soul's mistress doth depart this home.
Back to its origin each part doth come;
This lute of Life's four silken strings then from
The stroke of Fortune's bow untuned become.

Of yon Sphere telling varied tales they keep,
These fools who thread the pearl of science deep.
Since ne'er expert in Heaven's mysteries.
They wag the chin and then return to sleep.

These folks are sorry asses all the same,
Skins full of emptiness like drums, a name
Acquire, if you would have them kiss your foot.
For they are all the very slaves of fame.

On that Day when reward in each degree
Will be. They as thy wisdom will rate thee;
For goodness strive, for on the Judgment Day
Thy rising will be as thy quality.

The Bowl-maker who our head-bowls hath made,
Thus doing His own qualities portrayed;
One He inverted o'er our being's board
And to that head-bowl passion He did add.

My attitude toward Thee I would make plain,
And that I will abridge in verses twain:
"For love of Thee in dust I 'll lay my head,
That with Thy love I may arise again."

The heart a lamp is, lit at beauty's cheek.
And though by grief consumed new life doth seek,
Like flame with moth the heart is, one should say.
For thus the saw, “With burning, fire doth take."

Companions, when ye meet as ye agree,
Your friend ye needs must pledge in memory;
And when together wholesome wine ye drink,
And my time comes, turn down a glass for me.

At first such grace and favor why did’st show?
Delights and blandishments on me bestow?
And now thou strivest to afflict my heart;
What wrong I may have done I fain would know.

Those hither come that in ambition vie.
Distraught by drink, pleasures and luxury.
The goblet drain and silent in the earth
Wrapt in the sleep of Naught together lie.

Of Fortune's bounty thy full portion seize,
Take cup in hand, on Joy's couch sit at ease;
God recks not of obedience or sin,
Take of the world thy fill, as thou dost please.

Since Heaven increases nothing but our pain,
And gives naught that it takes not back again.
The unborn ne'er would hither come if they
But knew what we at Fortune's hands sustain.

Why of existence have a care, O, friend?
With idle thought thy heart and soul to rend?
Live blithely, let the world glide merrily.
They ne'er consulted thee about the end.

Yon dwellers in the tombs are dust and clay.
Escaped from self, of all things witless they;
Their every atom scattered, wide, alas!
What a mirage they make till Judgment Day!

O, Heart, suppose all worldly goods thy dower.
Adorned with verdure be thy pleasure's bower.
Then on that verdure like the dew at night
Resting, and vanished in the morning hour!

Heed not Traditions nor the Law Divine,
Withhold from none the morsel that is thine,
None slander, nor afflict thou any heart,
I warrant thee the world beyond,—bring wine!

Through Fortune's shifts that for the vile doth care,
A hundred griefs and pains through life I bear,
Like heart-closed bud within life's rosary.
Like time-scarred tulip that doth blood spots wear.

Youth is the better time in which to taste
Pure wine by comely striplings' presence graced;
As this vain world was ruined by a flood,
'T is best in it be drunk, by wine laid waste.

The world 's astir and mad in quest of Thee,
Bare before Thee stand wealth and poverty;
To all Thou speakest but each ear is deaf,
With all art present but no eye can see.

With churl ill-bred and stupid best beware
You drink not, for he'll bring a deal of care;
The night ofjoy, noise, drinking, brawl, next day
His headaches and excuses you will bear.

Since there 's no 'scaping what the stars decree,
Fret not so much in seeking—vanity;
Nor on thy heart so great a burden place,
To leave it and pass on the end will be.

Drink pure wine, Soul, when roses scent the air,
Toasting the graceful, heart-alluring fair;
"Wine is the Grape's blood, and 't is lawful made;
Drink my sweet vintage!" doth the Grape declare.

Are you depressed ? Then take of bang a grain,
And next a pint of rose-hued grape-juice drain.
“Sufi you are? Nor eat of this nor that?"
Go! Feast on stones, since stones your fare remain

In the Bazaar I saw but yesterday
A potter pounding hard a lump of clay;
The clay cried out to him in mystic tones,
“I once was like thee, treat me gently, pray!"

One wine-draught 's better than the realm of Jam,
The cup's perfume than food of Miriam.
Ah ! Sweeter toper's sighs at break of dawn
Than songs of Bu Sa'id and Bin Adham!

Hid in the circle of the Heavenly vast,
A cup that all must drink in turn is placed;
Sigh not when thy time comes, but gladly drink.
For then it is thy turn the cup to taste!

Though thy years two, three, or ten hundred be,
From this old house They'll helpless carry thee;
Then be thou king or beggar of bazaar.
These both at the same price the end will see.

Abandon wife and child if Him you 'd find,
From self cut bravely bonds to self that bind;
The things of earth but clog you on your way.
How fare with them? Free them and leave behind!

O, Heart! Since earth's truth is illusion vain,
Why so distressed in lasting grief and pain?
Bear trouble ! Bow to Fate ! Once gone the Pen
For thee will never trace the scroll again!

Where 's one returned of all who went before,
To us the long road's secret to tell o'er?
Take care in this house ('tis but metaphor).
That naught you leave for you'll return no more.

This Sphere that makes to none its secrets plain.
Hath thousands like Mahmud and Ayaz slain;
Drink! For the Fates to no one twice give life,
For none who leaves the world returns again.

Thou, who surpasseth all earth's kings in might!
Know'st thou when wine can make the spirit bright?
On Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and
On Thursday, Friday, Saturday, morn and night.

O, ogling, sweet, inconstant and fair maid!
Be still ! a thousand troubles are allayed;
Thou bid'st me look not on thee. This command
Is as if “Hold awry, spill not!" were said.

In taverns better I commune with Thee
Than far from Thee in mosques feign piety;
O Thou of all created first and last!
If Thou wilt, burn, if Thou wilt, cherish me!

When wine thou drink'st, wit's outcast do not be,
Thy mind the dwelling of insanity.
Would'st have its ruddy juice allowed to thee?
Restrain thy wrath, seek no man's injury!

With fair maid and red wine by marge of rill,
Of joy and mirth the while I take my fill;
I was not but I am, and yet will be,
I have drunk and drink now and will drink still.

Seek thou with wise and worthy men to be;
A thousand leagues from worthless people flee;
Drink poison that the wise give but refuse
The antidote a fool doth offer thee.

A bird flown from the mystic world am I,
That from below to heights above might fly,
Since here I find no worthy confidant,
I go by the same door I entered by.

That abstinence from her could never be,
God ordered and then bade me from her flee;
'Twixt these commands we mortals stand perplexed,
As bidden "Hold awry, spill not!'' were we.

They 're gone and none returns to tell to thee
Of those passed on the Veil's deep mystery;
Thy needs, not texts but true prayer will reveal.
Mere play is prayer without sincerity.

Go! On earth's face, in Heaven's face high in air
Flung dust, drink wine and woo the sweet-faced fair!
What time is there for worship? What for prayer?
For none of all those gone returneth e'er.

If I Thy service' pearl did never thread.
Nor sin's dust ever wiped from off my head,
For all this of Thy mercy I have hope,
Because that ''One is two" I ne'er have said.

Whenever Grief thy heart's attendant be
With self-affairs in deep perplexity.
The case thou should'st seek of some other heart,
So full contentment shall result to thee.

Our drinking habit we 've begun anew.
And to the “Five Prayers" have we said adieu;
Where'er the goblet is, our necks stretched out
Just like the necks of bottles you may view.

Joy seek not, for Life's sum is but a sigh;
Each mote is from dust of a Jam or Kai.
The world's case and the root of this life is
A dream, vain phantasm in a breath passed by.

In truth and not by way of simile.
Heaven plays the game and its mere puppets we;
In sport moved on Life's chess-board, one by one
We reach the chess-box of Nonentity!

What is this fleeting life dost ask of me?
Were I to tell, its story long would be.
'Tis but a breath, felt, wafted from some sea,
And then blown back to depths of that same sea!

My loved one (be her life long as my pain!)
To-day began to favor me again,
She glanced at my sad eyes and passed as if
To say “Do good! and cast it on the main!"

I prest my lip in yearning to the urn.
Thereby the means of length of life to learn.
And lip to my lip placed it whispered low,
"Drink! For to this world you will ne'er return!''

The thorn that bends 'neath every creature's tread,
May spring from some love's curl, fair brow of maid,
And every tile on palace battlement
Some Vizier's finger be or Sultan's head!

Thou say'st "Rise! hold!" as in Naught's lair I lay,
Bide in the world, from its strife far away!"
Now I 'm bewildered quite by Thy command,
As if Thou "Hold awry, spill not!" did'st say.

O, Thou, who all men's secret thoughts dost know,
In case of need who succor dost bestow,
O, Lord give me repentance and forgive,
Thou from whom penitence and pardon flow!

I saw a bird perched on the wall of Tus,
Before her lay the skull of King Kaius,
And thus she moaned, ''Alas! Where sound thy bells ?
Where the alarums of thy drums profuse?"

Seek not the forecast of Futurity,
Nor ask of aught that comes since it must flee.
This ready-money moment count as gain.
Reck not of Past, nor ask of times to be.

To start yon golden bowl its course who made.
Earth's solid base, how end thus firmly laid.
By Learning's touchstone ne'er will be assayed
Nor ever in Conjecture's scales be weighed!

My ignorance I expose how frequently!
My heart is saddened in perplexity.
Do you know why I wear the Magian belt?
'T is of my Moslemism ashamed am I.

Khayyam, rejoice if overcome with wine
Thou with a tulip-cheeked one dost recline;
Since all things end in naught, rejoice and think
How 'twould be wert thou dead, whilst life is thine.

Last night I went into a pottery,
Two thousand pots did silent, speaking see.
“The potter, buyer, seller, where are they?"
One of the vessels cried out suddenly.

Wine, that blest Khizer guards securely,
Life's water is and its Elias I.
The food of heart and soul I call it, for
God says, “A boon 'tis to humanity."

Though 't is forbidden, yet drink wine for aye.
With lute and minstrelsy both night and day;
And of its ruby liquor spill a drop.
And drain all that remains then, if you may.

By mead and stream when roses scent the air,
Be with thy friends and mate as Houri fair;
Bring forth the cup! For those who drink at dawn
Give mosque nor synagogue nor thought nor care.

Would'st thou attain the stage of mystery?
See that to none thou doest injury;
Brood not o'er death nor fret for daily bread,
For both in their own time will come to thee.

My virtues singly note, by the half score
My faults forgive, past sins O God, pass o'er!
O, let not whiff and gust Thy wrath's flame fan!
By Allah's Prophet's dust I grace implore!

How long let future ill your heart depress?
Far-seeing people's portion is distress;
Be blithe! Let not the world weigh down your heart!
To fret will make your lot, nor more nor less.

There is a cup Creative Wisdom makes,
That from Love's care a hundred graces takes;
Yet this frail urn the Potter of the world
So shapes,—then on the ground in pieces breaks!

Wine in the crystal is a subtle sprite.
And in the flask it is a fluid bright.
No heavy-wits are fit to be my friends
Save wine-flasks, which are heavy and yet light.

Thou, knowing not of bread or salt the tie
Still flay'st me like a fish, O wheel on high!
By woman's wheel since all mankind is clothed,
'T is better far than thou, wheel of the sky!

If crust you have from any hand, be it so!
And if abused you've riches at command, then be it so!
Beware lest you in gain become engrossed!
Self freed from evil, come adversity, then be it so!

If roses be not ours, behold the thorn!
And darkness, if comes not the light of morn!
And if we lack the vestment, cell and shaikh.
Behold bell, church, and girdle to adorn!

Thou of the final fire art not afraid,
Nor cleansing in Contrition's stream hast made;
I fear when Death's blast puts out thy life-lamp.
That Earth will spurn thee in her bosom laid!

Lo! Dawn appears! and rends Night's robe in twain:
Why grieve? Arise! the draught of morning drain!
O, Sweetheart, drink! for many a breaking Dawn
Will look for us when we are dust again!

How long will prate of all eternity?
'T is past my science and my theory;
Wine has no substitute in time of joy,
'T is wine for every riddle turns the key.

Of God your Maker, merciful in sway.
Despair not for your sins, though great be they;
For though to-day you die in a debauch.
He will absolve your crumbling bones, next day.

Thy course contents me not, O, wheel on high.
Free me, unsuited to thy destiny;
If thou dost favor fools and witless ones,
I too am such, nor worth nor wit have I.

This form of life is pictured phantasy,
Who knows this not, unknowing quite is he:
Sit, drain the wine-cup and be gay and free
From these the figments of vain imagery!

Love in perfection and charmer fair!
Heart full of speech though tongue be speaking ne'er!
What is more strange on earth O Lord, than this?
I thirst; a limpid stream flows by me there!

At all times drain the brimming cup and free
Your mind from grieving vain; delighted be
With the Grape's daughter sitting, though forbid
Far better than her lawful mother she.

Some wine ! and be its trickling murmur made
To bulbul's song, nightingale's serenade!
Wine ne'er would gurgle from the flagon's throat,
If right were drinking without music's aid!

Questioning will not solve Truth's mystery,
No, nor will money spent nor property;
Till rent thy soul, thou drink'st blood fifty years
The way from “words" to “states" They'll not show thee.

Up from Earth's center e'en to Saturn's throne,
I solved all problems of the Heavenly zone ;
From bonds of fraud and artifice leaped out.
And every barrier burst save Death's alone.

'T is well with cup to fill the heart with glee,
And count as little “has been" and ''to be."
This borrowed soul a prisoner here below,
A while from Reason's bondage we 'll set free.

The moment when at Death's behest I flee.
And like a leaf I fall from Being's tree.
The world in my heart's joy I'll sift away
Ere dustmen in their sieves to dust turn me.

This wheel of Heaven which we amazed discern.
Is like a Chinese lantern, as we learn;
The Sun the lamp, the World the lantern is.
And we like figures are that on it turn.

O, Lord! It was Thou who my clay did'st knead. What should I do ?
And of my silk and wool did'st spin the thread. What should I do?
All good and bad that from my being come,
It was Thou who did'st write upon my head. What should I do?

Friend, let us not the Morrow's fears forecast,
Come! profit by this moment while it last;
To-morrow this old Inn we 'll quit and be
The comrades of Seven Thousand Ages past!

No moment while you may refuse wine's aid,
For by it reason, heart and faith are stayed;
Had Iblis drunk one drop, to Adam he
Two thousand salutations would have made.

The door of Hope I 've shut to self, that so
Favors I may escape from high and low;
I 've but one Friend who takes my hand, I know
That which I am, I am, and He doth know!

A measure dance ! while we clap hands, arise!
Wine flown, we drink to thy Narcissus eyes.
In twenty cups is not so much delight,
But in three score amazing pleasure lies!

By circling Heaven I 'm saddened constantly,
And with my own base nature vexed am I;
Wit lacking from the world to sit apart.
And wanting wisdom free from earth to fly.

Upon earth's carpet sleepers I espy,
And others hidden underneath descry,
And those gone or not come I see where'er
I view the desert of Nonentity.

Of sin I reck not, since I trust Thy grace,
Nor with Thy care, the toilsome way I trace.
And I rate not the ''black book" at a grain,
So that Thy favor shall make white my face.

Think not a fear to leave the world have I,
Nor dying nor that thence the soul should fly ;
Since death is certain, that I do not dread,
' T is my ill living makes me fear to die.

How long mere slaves of petty prudence be?
What if we live a day or century?
Wine bring us in the bowl, or ever we
Become but wine-jars in the pottery.

You and I to twin compasses compare,
O soul! one body though two heads we bear;
We circle now around a central point
Till we at last again united are.

How long, O stupid zealot, wilt thou chide.
That ever wine-flown we in taverns bide?
Thou sadly wear'st thy beads, pretence, deceit;
With sweetheart, song and wine we're satisfied!

I fight with my desires continually. What shall I do?
And my own deeds bring constant shame to me. What shall I do?
Suppose that of Thy kindness Thou forgive?
For this my shame Thou did'st my actions see, What shall I do?

Since in this world no resting-place have we,
Sans wine and sweetheart folly 't were to be.
How long, O wise man, prate of old or new?
When I am dead, what 's old or new to me?

Although to mosque I 've come with humble air,
By gracious Allah ! I 've not come for prayer;
One day I stole a prayer-mat, which worn out
Time and again still thither I repair.

No more let Fortune's changes bring us pain,
From aught save sparkling red wine we'll abstain;
The world 's our murderer and wine its blood,
Why should we not that murderer's heart’s blood drain?

I'll bear a hundred scoffs for thy dear sake,
Or pay the debt if I this promise break;
Though life suffice thy cruelties, 'twere less
Than what till Judgment I would undertake!

In Being's circle we have come too late.
And fallen quite from manhood's high estate.
And since life moveth not to our desire,
Would 't were at end ! for we are satiate!

Since earth's but fantasm, I 'll fantastic be,
Naught think of save bright wine and revelry.
They say “God give thee penitence!" He'll not
Give it and I would not repent, did He!

When at the foot of Death I am laid low,
And when his hand doth my plucked plumage strew.
Naught of my clay, look ye but flasks ye make.
Perchance the wine-scent new life will bestow.

As in this world's affairs' variety
I see haphazard placed folk seem to be;
Praise be to God! for whereso'er I look.
My own chagrin as due to that, I see!

Let us sip rose-hued wine, 'tis break of day,
Fame's chalice on the stones we'll fling away
And cease to strive for what we long have hoped
And with long tresses and the lute's strings play.

Though widespread as the earth my sins should be.
That Thou wilt guide I trust Thy clemency;
Thou say'st ''When thou art weak I'll take thy hand."
One weaker now than I, look not to see.

If drunk with Magian wine I am, I am.
Faithless, Gueber, idolater I am,
I am. Each sect of me conjecture holds;
I am myself and what I am, I am.

All my life long from drink I'd not refrain,
To-night on Kader's Feast the cup I'll drain
Lip to its lip and breast to breast of jar,
Hand on flask's neck until dawn breaks again.

What 's manifest in life and death know I,
The heart of everything both low and high;
But shame upon my knowledge if I know
A state that with wine's ecstasy can vie!

Dervish, the cloak of seeming cast from thee!
Give not thy being to hypocrisy.
Go! Poverty's old rug on shoulders throw,
Beneath it beat the drum of empery!

I drink wine, but avoid debauchery,
Save with the cup, from grasping I am free;
Know'st thou why I 'm a worshipper of wine?
'T is since I 'm no self-worshipper like thee.

To thee an adept I may briefly say
What man has always been, a shape of clay.
The clay of grief cast in the mould of toil.
Who tasting life a moment, moves away.

The wine-jar's lip we 've made our place to pray.
With its red juice as men ourselves array;
In taverns that life we may yet regain
Which in the convents we did waste away!

The flower of all Creation are we,
The pearl of light as wisdom's eye doth see;
Beyond a doubt, Life's circle is a ring.
Whose graven signet is humanity.

'T is we with wine who ecstasy attain
Spurning the base, the empyrean gain;
Then from this body's dross we become freed,
We came from dust and dust become again.

If I did eat ere Ramazan was past.
Think not that with intent I broke the fast.
My day, from fasting toils, became as night,
Methought 't was not dawn, when I food did taste.

We ne'er in joy a cup of water drain
That from Griefs hand a draught did not contain,
Nor dip our crust within another's salt,
But that we mortify our hearts in pain.

I go at dawn to taverns every day.
With Kalenders I riot on the way:
Since the world's end and secrets Thou dost know,
Vouchsafe me grace that I to Thee may pray!

The griefs of Time we reck not at a grain, we 're happy.
If breakfast comes from dinner we abstain, yes we 're happy.
Since cooked food from Love's kitchen comes to us.
Of none do we have expectations vain, for we 're happy!

No day from earthly bonds have we been free,
No single moment glad in life to be,
To Fortune long apprenticeship I served
Nor of the other world gained mastery.

I am miscalled philosopher by foes,
I am not that which they aver, God knows!
I know not what I am, still less my end
Since I have come into this nest of woes.

The more removed from self, I live the more.
The more abased I am, the higher soar;
More strange than this, that while from Being's wine
I grow more sober, I 'm more drunk therefor!

Greeting from me to Mustafa convey,
And with due ceremony do ye say:
“Chief of the Hashimi! why by the Law
Is pure wine banned and why allowed sour whey?

Khayyam from me with salutations greet,
And "Thou art green, Khayyam! " say when ye meet.
When said I that wine is unlawful? Still
'T is to the "green" (as thou), not the discreet.

"I am the garden's Joseph" the rose said,
“A ruby dear, my mouth with gold arrayed."
"What sign of Joseph do you show?" quoth I,
And she, “Tis that with blood my coat is red."

Awhile the master's side we did frequent,
Awhile then with our progress were content,
Hear the discourse's end, what came to us,
From dust we came and on the wind we went!

Pure from the void we came, unclean we go;
Tranquil we came, depart we full of woe.
With hearts afire and watered with our tears
And giving life to wind in earth lie low.

The earth we traversed Jamshed's cup to see.
Nor rest by day, nor sleep by night took we;
When the sage told its attributes, I learned
That world-revealing cup myself to be!

The queen moved, I became disconsolate,
By harshness fell from knight's to pawn's estate.
Then when I tired of king and bishop's game.
Rook to thy rook I place .... and so, checkmate!

Since Allah's will and mine do not agree.
How then becomes that right that's willed by me?
If everything is right that He doth will.
Then all things I have willed must error be.

That ruby bring, in crystal pure confined,
The mate and stay of men of noble mind!
Yea, bring wine, since thou knowest that the days
Of this dust world pass swiftly as the wind!

Arise! To this sad heart bring medicine!
Yea, that musk-scented and rose-colored wine!
Grief's antidote's ingredients v/ould'st thou have?
With red wine bring that silk stringed lute of thine!

'T is time of roses, and my choice I 'll take,
For once in this affair the law I '11 break,
With tender green and tulip-cheeks awhile
With wine mid verdure tulip-beds I 'll make.

Think not I am of self existent, nay!
Nor of self walk this blood-devouring way ;
This being is not mine, it is of Him,
Who, where and whence am I? Tell me I pray?

You who both day and night the world pursue,
Of Judgment Day are you not mindful too?
An instant then bethink yourself and see,
Consider what Time doth to others do.

O thou ! the essence of all things mundane,
A moment leave the thought of loss and gain.
Take the Eternal Bearer's cup, and so
Freedom from cares of both the worlds attain!

Know in this endlessly revolving zone.
Two sorts of men have happiness alone.
One knowing all his good and bad and one
Neither the world's affairs nor yet his own.

The world's conditions to my heart make light
And hide my ill deeds from the people's sight;
Keep me but glad to-day, to-morrow then
Treat me as to Thy mercy seemeth right!

To him who doth the world's state truly know,
As one, is all its trouble, joy and woe;
Since both its good and bad will have an end,
As Thou wilt, pain or remedy bestow!

Arise! moan not the world's inconstancy!
Be glad an instant, seize joy ere it flee!
In the world's nature if aught constant were
The turn from others had not come to thee.

O, best of old friends ! from me do you hear.
Of this unending Heaven have no fear,
But rest you sitting in Contentment's nook,
And gaze upon the playing of the Sphere.

While you have power with drinkers seek to be.
Break down the wall of prayer and piety.
Hear from Khayyam O friend this sage advice,
Drink wine and rob, but O, show charity!

The world's a body and God is its soul,
And various angels senses that control
Its limbs, the creatures, elements and heavens.
All else illusion is and this the whole.

My heart to gladden in serenity,
Last night my wine-house charmer brought to me
The cup to take and drink, ''I will not drink!"
Quoth I. ''To gratify my heart!" said she.ed THOM1906

Would'st thou have Fortune bow the neck to thee,
Ever to feed the soul thy care must be,
And practice faith like mine, to drink thy wine.
Not drain the cup of worldly misery!

These potters who have ever hand in clay,
All heedless of its sense, wit, mind are they.
With cuff and kick and slap they beat as 't were
Clay of the bad that thus they pound away.

In this dust world from pole to pole in sooth
Howe'er discerning people seek the truth,
The only good in this deceitful world
Is rose-hued wine and lovely cheeks of youth!

Have you no shame for all the sins you do,
Forbidden things, commands forsaking, too?
Suppose you gain the kingdom of the world.
What do, except to leave it then, will you?

A sot crouched in the desert I did see,
Islam nor unfaith, goods nor creed had he.
Nor God, nor truth, nor law, nor certainty;
Where in two worlds is like audacity?

Concerning faith and dogma some surmise,
Some are perplext 'twixt doubts and certainties;
When suddenly an unseen herald cries :
“O fools! Nor here nor there the pathway lies!"

A bull there is in Heaven, his name Parwin,
Beneath the earth another is unseen;
Ope wisdom's eye, since mankind truly is
A string of asses, these two bulls between.

They bid me less than this the wine-cup use;
“Nay, why dost thou not wholly wine refuse?"
It is my love's face and the morning draught.
Be just, could there be a more clear excuse?

If I o'er Heaven should Godlike power acquire,
I 'd sweep away this firmament entire,
Another such, from that new Heaven I 'd make.
So the freed soul might reach its high desire.

This poor, mad, sympathetic heart of mine,
Ne'er sober, for my sweetheart's love doth pine ;
The day the Fates poured out the wine of Love
This goblet They with my heart's blood did line.

Better to drink, with fair maids wander free.
Than in deceit to practice piety;
If sots and lovers all in Hell will be.
Then who would wish the face of Heaven to see?

The joyous heart keep ever from despair,
Nor on the trial stone life's pleasures wear;
Since no one knows what is to be, we need
At will with wine and love to rest from care.

Our names from off the Scroll of Life erased.
We by the hand of Fate must be effaced;
O sweet-faced boy, bring water cheerfully,
For in the dust soon must we be abased!

'T is well indeed of good repute to be,
And shame to grieve at Heaven's tyranny;
Better o'ercome with fumes ofjuice of grapes,
Than with a zealot's self sufficiency.

Lord, mercy on this captive heart bestow.
Pity this bosom overcome with woe,
O, pardon this my hand that grasps the cup,
And these my feet that to the tavern go!

The man of spirit, wine renounces ne'er.
The wine that to Life's water doth compare,
In Ramazan if one needs must abstain,
At least let it be abstinence from prayer.

In time when fresh-bloomed roses venders cry.
Give order that the wine-cup be filled high.
Count not pavilions, Houris, Heaven or Hell,
For their existence they will certify.

Since with the Friend all thy life long at rest
Thou hast been, as a dream is what has passed;
At last life must be left, but all thy days
These earthly pleasures have been thine to taste.

However much at Fate's hand thou dost smart.
Oppressed by Heaven however grieved at heart.
Beware lest of pure water from base hands
A drop wet thy lip, though afire thou art.

If it be horses, turquoise, arms of war.
Be not proud of this ten day fortune, for
None bears away his life from Heaven's wrath.
Which breaks the mug to-day, —next day the jar!

Drink! for the jasmine oft grown high will be
And Suha oft above. Live happily
On verge of garden gaily! for full oft
That garden verge will bloom when gone are we!

O, Lord from care of more or less, free me!
O sever me from self and fill with Thee!
While sober I both good and bad know, so
Make me enrapt, from good and bad set free!

The ill deeds of yon circling dome, survey!
See earth laid bare of friends who’ve passed away!
Look for no morrow, seek not yesterday!
Live while you may, a breath, behold To-Day!

Since in this harsh world all man's gain hath been
Only his soul's vexation and chagrin,
Happy is he who quickly flees this world,
And he who never came knows joy serene!

Till comes to boiling this life pot of mine,
In Comfort's bowl I'll quaff juice of the vine.
O, potter, if from my clay you shape jars.
Sell them to none save those who deal in wine!

Ill-wishers never do their purpose gain;
Not one hurt done, a hundred they sustain.
I wish you well yet you would do me harm.
No good you see nor ill doth me attain.

We know not secrets of Eternity,
This riddle is not solved by thee or me;
They talk of thee and me, behind the Veil,
But when the Veil is lifted, gone are we

Against our dear lives holding its design,
This wheel of Heaven doth plot thy death and mine;
Come sit upon this grass, 'twill not be long
Ere verdure springs up from my dust and thine.

When from the body our souls pass away.
To mark our tomb a pair of tiles they'll lay.
And then, for tiles for graves of other men
Within the potter's mould they 'll press our clay.

Yon palace that to Heaven towered high,
Where, forehead bowed to threshold. Kings did lie,
I saw a dove that on its battlements
Thus, “Koo, koo, koo?" ''Where are they now?"
did cry.

Since every day and night of life for thee
Cuts off a part, give not up; happily
Thy day and night pass, for O full long when
Thou art no more, still night and day will be.

Khayyam, the world surveys those with disdain,
Who still at Time's rebuffs morose remain.
Ere on the stones Life's crystal chalice breaks,
Quaff wine from crystal to the harp's soft strain.

O Sweetheart, since the world doth sadden thee,
And from thy body soon the soul will flee.
Ere verdure from thine ashes springeth up,
These few days on the green rest cheerfully.

The moonlight severs the dark robe of Night,
On such a moment you no more may light;
So drink, rejoice, and think that one by one
Full many a moon on Earth's face will shine bright.

Drink wine, ere doth your name from Earth depart,
For cares take flight when wine doth reach the heart;
And loose the loved one's tresses knot by knot,
Or e'er the knots your limbs bind, rend apart.

The veil that parts us I will roll away
To-morrow, and with good luck, wine essay;
The time agrees and the beloved consents,
If I rejoice not now, when shall I, pray?

Ne'er give up wine if wine at hand avail,
A hundred vain regrets else thee assail;
In such a time how were repentance right
When roses bloom and sings the nightingale?

I 'd give my pearl of self for no small fee.
Nor thy door's dust for Jamshed's empery.
My pains thee serving, for ten myriad balms,
Nor for both worlds a single hair of thee.

'T is hour of dawn, up ! boy of simple mind!
And let the glass with ruby wine be lined.
This borrowed moment at this transient Inn
Full oft you'll seek and ne'er again will find!

Lest you Pretence's tavern reach, take care!
Nor as the Kalenders perform you there.
This is the way of folk who hold heads high;
From ever setting foot therein, beware!

Be blithe, for that time will come certainly
When 'neath dust will be all humanity.
Quaff wine, nor drain the dregs of worldly care,
And let him fret who in the world shall be!

Assembling let us all with loved ones sit;
And of the time's cares let us all be quit;
The chalice of Love's liquor let us drain,
Be all at peace and free, enrapt of it!

O, Saki, since youth's season has begun,
Do thou the wine-cup place my palm upon ;
The hour of dawn-draught 'tis, I've locked the door,
O boy, give wine ! for risen is the sun!

Of love of thee I censure never give,
And ne'er with fools upon this subject strive;
The wine of loving flows for all mankind,
The worthless from this cup no joy derive.

My heart 's consumed for you; What shall I do,
Saki? Than one wine-flown I 'm more dazed, too;
And though some call me sot, it yet, mayhap.
Is rather I 'm o'ercome with grief for you!

Thy daily need since fixed by equity
No jot reduced or added to may be;
At rest one needs to be concerning all,
And from whatever is one should be free.

This babbling cease if ye be friends of mine.
And do ye recompense my woes with wine.
When I am clay, make ye a brick thereof
A hole within some tavern wall to line.

From evil trifling of yon glass-like Sphere
And shifts of Time that for the base doth care,
In breast my heart a blood-filled flask I bear,
And cup-like filled my cheeks with many a tear.

Beware in taverns that we make no cry.
Nor raise a stir when we are passing by;
The Book and turban let us sell for wine,
The mosque-school pass, nor yet assemble nigh.

My wine-jar Thou hast shattered Lord, for me
And closed the door of my felicity;
My pure wine Lord, Thou hast poured on the earth.
May I die Lord! 'Tis Thou art drunk, may be!

An old man at a vintner's I did see,
I said “Of those gone hast no news for me?''
“Drink wine!" quoth he, “For many like us go,"
“But none comes back again on earth to be!"

Life's hidden wellspring thy lip doth possess!
Let not cup's lip to thy lip kisses press!
If the cup's blood I drink not, I 'm no man,
For whose the lip that should thy lip caress?

That which I am, I am by Thy decree,
A hundred years Thy grace hath fostered me;
A hundred more I still would sin to learn
If my sin greater or Thy clemency.

“Take cup and tankard, dearest Heart," I said,
“Bear by the stream's marge round the grassy mead.
For many a slender, moon-faced fofm, Heaven's wheel
A hundred times to cups and jugs hath made."

Of old and new wine we are buyers, then
Sell Heaven for two tiny seeds of grain;
Would'st thou know where thou goest after death?
Set wine before me and go where thou'rt fain.

Who in the world hath not sinned, prithee say?
If any man sin not, how lives he pray?
What is the difference 'twixt Thee and me?
If I do ill. Thou dost with ill repay.

My body's life and all my strength Thou art!
My heart and soul are Thine, O Soul and Heart!
Thou art my being and completely mine!
I am all Thine, since I 'm of Thee a part!

Thou, who like ball at Fortune's mallet's blow
To left (wine drinking) or to right dost go,
Say naught! For He who tossed thee down mid race
And search, doth know, yea He doth know, doth know!

Thy light gives sight to tiny insect's eyes.
Thy strength's imparted to weak limbs of flies.
Thy nature worthy is of Thee, O, Lord!
And far from Thee unworthy qualities!

O, thou, my soul's ease, welcome joyfully!
Thou comest and I am not sure of thee.
For God's love (not my heart's), drink so much wine
That who thou art is all unknown to me!

The day that's past from you bear not in mind;
The morrow to fret o'er be not inclined;
Of what has come and past rest not secure,
Live gaily now, nor cast life to the wind.

Live blithely for Time will be passing by.
And every soul will for its body cry.
Yon skull-cup that you see with passion filled,
Beneath the feet of potters soon will lie.

When They a stranger to myself make me,
And but a tale my life and memory,
(Although the word I fear to speak) would that
They 'd make my clay a tavern-jar to be!

Heaven, Houris, Kausar's fount exist, they say.
And there pure wine and honeyed sweets have they;
Fill up and pass the cup! For better cash
Than is a thousand promises to pay.

If wine you drink, with wise men let it be.
Or with fair tulip-cheeked ones laughingly;
Drink seldom, tell it not, nor practice it.
Drink little, now and then, but secretly!

What power, O Soul, was it that raised thee e'er?
The moon to thy sweet face doth not compare;
Earth's fair adorn their faces with the Feast,
But thy dear face maketh the Feast more fair!

If I my destiny could regulate,
Free from concern of good or evil fate,
Here in this barren life not to have come.
Nor been, nor parted were the better state!

You see, boy, taper, wine and moonlight there.
And sweetheart as the purest ruby fair;
Uplift from earth this heart afire, nor give
It to the wind, but water hither bear!

How long grieve over cares the Fates bestow,
With heart blood filled and eye with tears aflow?
Drink wine, and joyous, strive to be content
Or ever you beyond this orbit go!

The inn I sought with faith of devotee.
And with the Magian belt I girded me.
The tavern boy (so bad my name) my clothes
Threw out of doors and washed the hostelry.

Boy! wine of redbud's hue pour in the bowl!
For at the lip from grieving is my soul;
And be thou as I am in ecstasy.
At once be freed from self and earth’s control!

If while thou art on earth the power be thine.
No instant live sans cupbearer and wine.
For many have found out ere thee and me,
To none does Fortune to be kind incline.

If thou art wise be not the slave of Greed,
Nor fallen its prey, a vain Ambition heed;
Nor be as earth's dust driven by every wind,
But keen as fire, as running water freed.

Since at Death's hands no quarter we receive.
Vintner, make haste a stoup of wine to give!
Let us not fret, boy, o'er our heart's concerns.
For these few days that here on earth we live!

How long wilt prate of earthly grief and pain?
Arise! Be joyful as the moments wane!
Since Earth's face, end to end is veiled in green,
Of ruby wine the brimming beaker drain!

Heart's hand ne'er touched the ringlet of Delight;
Content's cup to the lips was ne'er brought quite;
Alas! toward night my day of life doth draw.
One day to my heart's wish ne'er reaches night.

In drunken sleep a graybeard I did see;
Bereft of mortal sense he seemed to be;
O'ercome by drink, his tipsy sleep disturbed,
"His servants God doth favor !" muttered he.

If in my bosom rest a red-lipped fair,
Grape-juice to Khizer's water doth compare;
Though Venus minstrel be and Jesus friend,
The loved one gone, Joy has no dwelling there.

Saki, a cup! for God is skilled indeed.
And gracious, doth His servants' pleadings heed;
Drink wine in Spring nor barter service, for
God for His creatures' duty hath no need!

Wilt thou hold me in grief apart from thee?
Or me possess, in joyous unity?
What way thou should'st use me I tell thee not.
Just as thy heart doth dictate treat thou me.

"Pray drink no wine, or you will grieve!" they say,
"And all afire you'll be on Judgment day!"
This may be, but more sweet than both the worlds
That instant is when you from wine are gay!

Saki, that wine that thy red lip doth bear
While I have breath, my heart will give up ne'er;
I 'm filled with longing, though thou deem'st me bold.
Yet my presumption springs from love's despair!

How sweet in jar's throat is wine's melody.
And strain of song to flute's soft minor key!
With each bewitching fair and limpid wine
How sweet the bumper from the world's care free!

Awake, O man of virtue strong and wise!
Say to yon child of crumbling clay, “Arise!"
Then "Heedless, you are trampling under foot
The brain of Kai Kobad, and Perwiz' eyes!"

How long of temple-incense, mosque-lamp tell?
How long of Heaven's rewards or pains of Hell?
See, from all time " What is to be, will be!"
The Lord of Fate did on the Tablet spell!

Since thy death but a dying once can be,
Die once then, since there is no remedy.
For this robe, blood-stained, wrought of skin and veins.
When 'tis disused why then this sympathy?

Now that the nightingale to song doth wake,
Do naught save ruby wine with revellers take;
Arise and come ! in gladness blooms the rose;
These tew days mid the flowers your joyance make!

In Love's inn glorious is this name of mine,
My lot is drinking and to worship wine;
I am the world's soul in this Magian cell,
My body this life's image is, in fine.

Bearer, a cup for heart's lamp fire ne'er takes
Till at wine's flame a new existence wakes;
Out on thy red lip's wine ! To its pure draught
Whoe'er sets lip that red lip ne'er forsakes!

For me here wine and sweetheart quite suffice,
My soul on past or future ne'er relies,
Of drunk or sober naught the heart doth know,
My quest of both worlds but an instant is.

Though thou art high. Fate will to dust bring thee.
And from soft luxury to beggary;
In brief, then, avoid ignorance as thou may'st,
Lest want Fate bring thee, do no injury!

From your door, Saki, we will never stray.
Though you may kill us, that will not dismay;
Though from the dust you '11 not raise us, ourheads
We will not take from out your passageway.

With pride let not greed in your heart remain,
For no one clogged by pride can place attain;
Be yielding as the ringlet of the fair,
Or e'er your senses' thread doth snap in twain.

Saki, though you were based like walls, on stone.
By Death's tide you would soon be overthrown;
The soul 's but air ! O bearer, bring me wine!
O, minstrel sing! The world is dust alone!

O, Shah! To thee Heaven lotted sovereignty!
Saddled for thee the steed of empery!
And where thy moving charger, golden-hoofed,
Sets foot on clay, earth gilded seems to be!

The cup fill ! For dawn light as snow doth turn,
And from the wine that 's ruby, color learn
Take two sweet aloe logs, make bright the feast!
Then shape a lute from one, the other burn!

When Love Eternal first my being wrought.
Love's lesson from the very first He taught;
The filings of my heart's dust made a key
Then for the treasures of immortal thought!

'T is best all things save grape-juice to forego.
That best, pavilion beauties' hands bestow,
A Kalender best, drinking, wand'ring free,
A wine-draught 's best from Moon to Fish below!

Wake, Saki! for the day dawn 's bright and fair.
With last night's wine for me the cup prepare.
With loved ones drink we and make glad to-day.
For the To-morrow naught for thee will care.

O, friend, for Fortune undisturbed remain,
Nor for Time's changes fret yourself in vain.
Since on your body this life's garb is torn,
What matters said or done, what matters stain?

You, who have not done good but ill alone.
Thus trusting in God's favor to atone;
Do not on pardon rest, for never yet
Was done as undone, nor undone as done.

Like an inverted bowl behold these skies
Whereunder fallen helpless are the wise.
Regard the bottle's friendship for the cup,
Lip to lip, between life blood fallen lies.

With my moustache I 've swept the wine-house sill;
I 've bade farewell to both worlds' good and ill;
Should both the worlds roll in the street like balls,
A grain, when drunk and drowsed I 'd rate them still.

The drops wept, “We are severed from the sea."
The sea laughed, "For we are all one," said he,
"In truth there is no other God, we 're all;
Though one point circling seems apart to be."

How long shall I fret for what I’ve not got,
Or if content or not I 'll pass my lot?
The wine-cup fill! since 't is not known to me
If I this breath I draw breath out or not.

Give not yourself to grief for fate unkind,
Nor call sad thoughts of parted ones to mind.
Yield not your heart save to sweet fairy lips.
Sans wine be not, nor cast life to the wind!

How long of mosque, prayer, fasting preach to me?
Get drunk in taverns though by beggary.
Khayyam, drink wine, for from your clay they 'll shape
A goblet, pitcher or a jar, maybe.

Lo, Zephyr rends the rose's robe in twain,
Her beauty bulbuls praise in joyous strain;
Sit we 'neath this rose shade, for many a rose
Wind strewn in earth has turned to earth again!

Suppose the world to your wish goes, what then?
And this life's volume read suppose, what then?
I take it that you live a hundred years,
Another hundred add to those, what then?

Know'st why the cypress and the lily free
Reputed are in mouths of men to be ?
This has ten tongues but silent is and that
A hundred hands and yet ungrasping she.

Boy, place within my hand delicious wine,
The cup as beauty bright, place it in mine.
Give me that which, the foolish and the wise
As in a chain together doth entwine.

Alas! that this my life has passed in vain,
Forbid each mouthful, no thought free from stain;
My face made black by God's commands undone,
Alas ! for deeds that He did not ordain!

We stay here trusting in Thy grace alone
Apart from sin or merit of our own.
For where Thy mercy is, it may be that,
Not done as done is, done is as not done.

This is the form Thou gav'st my being, Lord!
And there a hundred marvels dost record;
I cannot better be than this since Thou
Forth from Thy crucible me thus hast poured.

O, thou hast gone, and bent come back again,
Thy name is lost forever among men.
Thy nails together grown as hoofs become,
Behind, thy beard a tail is growing then!

O, Lord! to Thee great and small worship pay.
'T is best in both worlds in Thy courts to pray.
Affliction Thou dost take, and givest joy,
O, Lord! of Thy grace give and take away!

Oh, you who to the world's affairs are blind,
You are naught, for you rest on naught but wind!
Life's bounds are 'twixt two non-existences,
And your life 's naught, therein whelmed and confined!

Each morn I say, "To-night I will relent.
Nor be on cup or brimming bowl intent."
Now Spring has come, in time of roses, Lord
Give me repentance that I did repent!

Study of science you had best beware;
And best hang o'er the tress-tip of the fair
And ere that Fortune shed your best life-blood,
Best shed the flask's blood in the cup to share.

Can you not, Heart, the riddle's secret gain?
Nor make the subtlety of wise men plain?
Here make your Heaven with wine and cup; for you
The place where Heaven is may,—may not attain.

O, cup-bearer! those who have gone before
Sleep in the dust of pride for evermore;
Go, boy, drink wine and hear the truth from me,
You 'll find but empty wind is all their lore.

When at the Loved One's feast, O Heart, you sit.
Severed from self, you 're joined to Self complete.
And when you drain the mortal cup, you are
Of Being and Non-being wholly quit!

Though I am wont with wine enrapt to be,
Why should the people ever censure me?
Would that all things forbidden made men drunk.
For ne'er on earth I 'd see sobriety.

O, thou the offspring of the Seven and Four!
I know the Four and Seven thou frettest o'er.
Drink wine ! for more than four times I 've told thee
When gone, thou 'rt gone ! Thou wilt return no more!

A thousand snares Thou settest in my way,
And threatenest if I step therein to slay;
Thou mak'st Thy law and me dost rebel call,
Though nowise is the world free from Thy sway!

O, Thou whose essence wit can never know,
Who heedest not the good or ill we do,
Though drunk with sin. Thy hope doth sober me.
That is : I trust Thou pardon wilt bestow!

Were life but following authority
Each day in turn a festal day would be.
Every one then would grasp his heart’s desire,
Were it not for vain threats of penalty.

O, Sphere ! you still do thwart my heart's desire.
And rend apart my festival attire,
You turn to dust the water I would drink,
The air wafted to me you change to fire.

In gardens why are green grapes sour, O pray?
When winter comes sweet, wine made sour are they?
From wood if one a lute make with an adze,
And it turn out a flute, what would you say?

Thou know'st, O Sweetheart, though thou absent be.
Thou ne'er hast (in this bosom) gone from me,
Yet none thou sendest nor dost ever ask
What passeth o'er my head while far from thee.

Since odds 'twixt hand and foot I could divine.
This Fortune base her hand hath closed to mine;
Alas that Fate will place in the account
What time I 've lived apart from love and wine!

O, Soul ! if from the body's dust set free
You soar a sprite in Heaven's infinity,
Which is your mansion, shame upon you, then,
That you come dwellng on this earth to be.

Potter! if prudent, let your hand be stayed!
How long will you the clay of man degrade ?
Of what think you ? thus setting on your wheel
Feridun's fingers and Kai Khosrau's head!

O, rose ! thou 'rt like that face my heart doth rend!
Thou wine! that ruby the soul joy doth lend;
O, striving Fortune thou each moment art
More strange, and yet thou seemest like a friend!

Ah, would there were a place to rest from pain
Or that the way we might at last attain
After ten myriad years and from earth's heart
Like new blown verdure might revive again!

Since Thou at first to me becam'st a friend.
Why then thereafter from myself dost rend ?
And since Thou did'st not leave me at the first,
Why here on earth dost keep me to the end?

How long, O, friend, with body that doth tire,
The world to trace with eager foot aspire?
All things that come and pass, depart and go,
And not one moment suiteth thy desire.

I ope'd Love's book, to find an augury,
At once an ardent one in ecstasy
Cried, “Who at home a moonlike sweetheart hath
And night year long, ah, glad indeed is he!"

With Winter's passing and Spring's coming on
The leaves of our life's book close, one by one.
“Drink wine, nor grieve" the sage saith, “for care is
Poison and antidote save wine there's none."

Last night the cup I dashed against a stone.
Base was the act, my head with wine was flown.
The cup cried out to me in mystic tone,
“I was like thee, my case will be thine own."

My heart is saddened by hypocrisy
Saki, arise! and bring bright wine to me.
The prayer-mat and mantle pawn for wine,
So then my boasts may rest in surety.

If thou art wise, thyself examine, see
What thou did'st bring, what tak'st away with thee.
Thou say'st '' I 'll not drink wine, since I must die."
But drink or no, thou 'It die for certainty.

Door-opener Thou art, then open, pray!
And since Thou art my guide, show me the way!
I 'll not give hand to other hand-takers,
All fleeting they, but Thou abid'st for aye!

If remedy you'd find, then bear with pain,
Lament not sufl"ering, if cure you'd gain,
And thankful be in time of helplessness
If aid to end your grief you would obtain.

Thou say'st from malice what thou say'st to me.
And call'st me *' Skeptic, atheist!" constantly.
I am all that thou sayest I confess,
But pray, is malice well befitting thee?

A skin of red wine, book of poesy.
Bread, a half loaf, enough for life give me.
Then sitting in some solitude with thee
Were sweeter than the Sultan’s empery!

How long preach, Saki, of the five and four?
One problem or a hundred thousand more;
We are but earth O, bearer, sound the lute!
We are but air, Saki set wine before!

While bone, vein, sinew this your frame array,
Strive not to step outside your destined way;
Cringe not, although Rustam-i-Zal 's your foe,
Nor boon from friend seek, were he Hatim Tai.

Though ruby lips and wine-cup you desire.
Still following sounds of tabor, pipe and lyre.
All these are vain, God knows, and you are naught
Until you have renounced the world entire.

O'er Yasin and Barat why Saki, fight?
The draft Barat within some winehouse, write!
The day our lot is in the tavern cast,
That day, boy, shall be as Barat's great night!

'Neath Heaven's relentless sphere your patience prove.
Drink wine ! since in a world of woe you move;
Since your beginning and end are in earth,
Think now you are not 'neath earth but above.

Although affairs to your wish never go.
Be glad in what the moment doth bestow.
Since of all secrets, boy, you are the soul,
Why all this grieving vain and care below?

Behold where'er I look, lo! everywhere
Heaven's verdure springs and Kausar's stream is there;
And wastes as Heaven are; Hell is gone, you'd say;
Sit in this Heaven then with a Heaven faced fair.

Seek not friends in this house of jugglery.
Bear you with pain and seek no remedy.
My counsel hear and look you do not speak,
Mid grief sit cheerful, seek no sympathy.

Two saws are Wisdom's most essential.
Of more worth than your lore traditional;
Better eat not than taste of everything;
Better live by yourself than mate with all!

Do you know why when dawn makes light the sky
The bird of morning sounds his constant cry ?
In morning's mirror 'tis to show that from
Your life a night has passed unheeded by.

Give me the ruby, tulip-tinted wine,
Draw from the flagon's throat blood of the vine.
For save the wine-cup there is not to-day
For me one friend at heart so genuine.

In wisdom though Aristo or Jamhur,
And though in power Caesar or Faghfur,
Drink wine from Jam's cup, for thy end 's the grave,
Though Bahram's self thou wert, thy goal ’s the “gur."

A potter in his shop I paused to greet,
And saw the master, foot on wheel, complete
Covers and handles for his pots and jars
Wrought from the heads of kings and beggars' feet!

Hast sense? In witless ways seek thou to be
And drink with drinkers of Infinity!
Art senseless ? Then not thine 's true ignorance;
Not every fool attains to ecstasy!

Take every care. Beloved, while yet you may.
The heart's grief of your lover to allay.
This queendom of your charms lasts not for aye,
But all at once slips from your hands away.

O Love! ere through the Door thy step inchne,
Or potters mould jugs from my clay and thine,
Fill thy cup from that flagon of good wine
That harms not, drink, and then replenish mine.

Ere you be drunken with the cup of Death,
Or fallen low rude Fortune's blows beneath.
Some substance gather here, for there, I trow,
Ill will he fare if naught in hand he hath.

Of quick and dead Thou makest the estate.
And Heaven's distracting wheel dost regulate;
Though I am bad, of this slave Thou art Lord,
Then why blame me, since me Thou did'st create?

O, wine so pure and O, so crystalline!
So much I 'll drink in this mad state of mine
Of thee, that all who see me from afar
Will cry, ''Whence dost thou come, O Master Winer"

A Shaikh to harlot, “You are drunk!" said he,
"Each moment caught in some fresh snare!" Said she,
"All that you say I am, O, Shaikh, I am;"
" But you, are you such as you seem to be?"

If Earth rolled in the gutter like a ball,
When drunk and drowsed, a grain I 'd rate it all.
Last night they pawned me at the inn for wine,
"A fine pledge thou I" the taverner did call.

Sometimes concealed, Thou show'st Thy face to none,
Again Thou dost existent forms put on;
This splendor to Thyself Thou dost reveal,
Thou art spectator, spectacle in one!

If Earth's face populous thou mad'st to be.
Than to make glad one heart 'twere less in thee;
To bind one freeman in the bonds of love
Were better than a thousand slaves to free!

If knowing, thou for pleasure of thy heart
Dost make a soul at peace with grief to smart.
Go, thy misfortune bear and mourn thy wit
Thy life long, for a wondrous fool thou art!

Whene'er there conies to hand two maunds of wine,
To drink in all assemblies ne'er decline;
For whoso does thus, sets his spirit free
Of such as thy moustache or beards like mine!

If bread you have made from the grain of wheat,
Two maunds of wine, a mutton joint for meat,
In some nook sitting with fair Tulip-cheeks,
Not every Sultan hath such joy complete!

They call you bad if in the city known,
Suspect, if you in corners sit alone,
Though Khizer or Elias you should be,
Better of none be known and to know none.

Ours be dawn draught, beloved and wine, Saki!
True penitence shall not be mine, Saki!
Saki, how long wilt preach of Noah to me?
Bring thou that light heart's ease of thine, Saki!

I 'm powerless; to join thee I aspire
And in thine absence I can scarce respire.
My grief I dare not tell to any one.
O vexed case ! rare passion ! sweet desire!

'T is hour of dawn-draught and of cry, Saki!
Here in the vintners' street am I, Saki!
What place for piety is this? Peace! Drink!
Traditions leave! Devotion fly! Saki!

Idol, whose step brings joy! 'T is break of day!
Set wine before and sound a tuneful lay,
For this Tir coming and departing Dai
Ten myriads cast to earth like Jam and Kai!

Pray treat not drinkers with severity.
Nor to the worthy show austerity.
Drink wine ! for whether you drink wine or no,
If doomed to Hell in Heaven you 'll never be.

Would God the world in other fashion frame!
And now that I might see to what it came!
Either mysteriously increase my store.
Or else from off His roll remove my name!

Lord, ope to me the door of daily bread!
Without men's aid into Thy presence lead!
Keep me so flown with Thine own wine, that I
From witlessness have not an aching head!

O, burning, burning, burnt, O, thou to be
Consumed in fires of Hell made bright by thee!
How long “Have mercy, God, on Omar!" say?
For who art thou to teach God clemency?

Rejoice ! for yesterday thy lot fixed They!
Secure from all thy clamors yesterday!
Be jocund ! for They, lacking thine accord
Did yesterday thy morrow's fate array!

I 'd ne'er have come, could I have had my say,
If mine were going, when should I go, pray?
Were it not better in this world of dust.
Neither to come, nor be, nor go away?

A flask is man, the soul as liquor bright,
A pipe the heart, the voice therein, the sprite.
Know you what man of clay is, O, Khayyam?
A magic lantern, and in it a light!

To all churls something you give. Sphere on high!
Warm baths, mills, watercourses you supply.
The upright pledge their goods for evening bread.
Perhaps you'd give a puff for such a sky!

About a potter's shop I chanced to stray,
At every breath with axe he beat away
At earth; if dullards see not, I perceive
In every potter's hand my fathers' clay.

With wine and love, O Heart, by garden side,
Dissemble not nor in pretence abide;
If thou liv'st worthily thou shalt drink wine
From that Fount where Murtaza doth preside.

Continually by lust of sense beset.
Thy noble soul thou constantly dost fret;
Know'st thou not that the ruin of the soul
Are these desires on which thy heart is set?

O Fortune! in thine acts confessed to be
Within Oppression's cell a devotee.
Thou givest base men wealth, the good unrest,
Save these two is nor pearl nor pottery.

Thou essence of four elements! To me
A word list from the world of mystery,
For demon, angel, beast and man are joined,
Yea, thou art all thou dost appear to be.

Would you that all mankind approve of you?
Accepted of the many and the few ?
Speak ill of none, so be in good repute
With true believer, Christian and with Jew.

O, Sphere! say truly what I 've done to thee,
That in Life's race thou curb'st me constantly?
I get no bread till driven from street to street,
Nor even water save dishonorably.

No longer vainly grieve! Live happily!
And in Life's devious path, do equity!
And since the end of worldly things is naught.
Think you are naught, and from concern live free!

Where 's Badakhshan's red lip, that ruby rare?
That fragrant wine which frees the soul from care?
They say “Wine is forbidden Mussulmans."
Drink then! nor grieve! The Mussulman is where?

Last night on marge of stream I did recline
With shapely fair and flask of rose-hued vine,
Before us placed a shell, for whose pearl, forth
Dawn's herald came, so brightly it did shine.

By Reason's dictates you should live; it may
Be so to do that you know not the way,
Your master Fortune, hence, his whip in hand
Thus strikes your head that you learn to obey.

Love's infidels, not Mussulmans we are,
And ants are we from Solomon afar.
Seek from us sallow cheeks and garments torn,
Elsewhere 's the muslin seller's gay bazaar.

Nothing but smoke by this sect's fire is made,
And hope of weal from any is gainsaid;
Compelled by hand of Fate, I lift my hands
And clutch the skirts of men but find no aid.

Though people call me lewd continually,
I 'm guiltless, 'tis their fancies fixed on me;
On me in law-breaking! O, good folk, naught
I 've done save drinking and debauchery!

O, Heart! suppose all worldly wealth your own,
Goods fill your home and bright caparison.
Live blithely in this house of Life and Death,
Suppose these few days resting—and then gone!

Wine is a liquid ruby, flask the mine,
The cup the body and the soul is wine;
That crystal goblet laughing with its juice,
And yet like tears that heart's blood doth enshrine.

Something, O Sphere, to every churl you give,
To some, mills, houses and the means to live;
The upright (live) mid drones who set up shop,
'T were well, O Sphere, could we these gifts receive!

Ten myriad Musas Sinai hath seen.
And Time ten myriad Isas that have been;
The palace stands ten myriad Caesars passed.
The dome that watched ten myriad Kasras, e'en!

Thy being from Another's doth proceed,
Another's passion doth thy passion breed;
Go, and within Thought's collar draw thy head,
For by thy hand Another's hand is hid.

From lore to cup your bridle turn, inclined
To Kausar and leave Heaven and Hell behind
Your muslin turban sell for wine, nor fear;
A muslin shred then round your forehead bind.

They are but fools who worship mats for prayer,
Since they Hypocrisy's hard burden bear,
And strangest Islam they sell and are worse
Than heathen, since Devotion's mask they wear.

Happy the man who hath been all unknown,
Nor corslet, mail, nor woolen garb doth own,
And who haunts not earth's ruins like an owl,
But like Simurgh to highest Heaven hath flown.

The worth of rose and wine sots know alone.
To narrow hearts, close fists it is not shown
Excusable in fools is ignorance,
The joy of these delights to sots is known.

The Heavenly Sage thy secrets all doth see,
Doth, hair by hair and vein by vein, know thee.
Grant with deceit that men thou may'st beguile,
How deal with Him since all things knoweth He?

To prayer and fasting when my soul inclined,
Methought attained the wishes of my mind;
Alas! a half wine-draught annulled the fast,
And my ablution a mere waft of wind.

To rose-faced fair inclines my very soul,
My hand grasps constantly the brimming bowl,
With every part my lot I will enjoy
Before my parts seek union in the Whole.

A love that passeth, no real value shows.
And with no warmth, like fire half-dead, it glows;
The lover true, for months, years, day and night,
Recks not of sleep nor food, ease nor repose!

Though rich, the toper comes to poverty,
And stirs the world by his debauchery.
That emerald in my ruby bowl I 'll pour
That I may wholly blind Care's serpent eye.

How many in research a night till morn
Ne'er toiled! How many a fool fine clothes adorn!
How many ne'er set foot beyond themselves!
How many a reputation soiled and torn!

Each dawn when dews the tulip's face o'erflow
The violet in the garden bendeth low,
Indeed the rosebud gives me joy, although
Round herself closely she her robe doth throw.

If Heaven deny me peace, come war alone!
And if good name I lack, be shame my own!
The cup of wine as ruby red-bud, see!
Who drinks not, for his head behold a stone!

With cypress-slender maid, more freshly fair
Than new plucked rose, wine cup and rose leaves share,
Ere Death, as 'twere the vesture of a rose,
With sudden blast thy robe of life shall tear!

More useful we than you. City Mufti,
With all this drinking soberer are we;
The blood of men you drink, we that of grapes.
Be just, how can we more bloodthirsty be?

One hand on Koran, on the cup one hand,
We now to law incline, now toward things banned,
Nor skeptics quite nor Mussulmans complete
Beneath this dome of turquoise hue we stand.

Without pure wine I cannot life sustain.
To drag the body's load I strive in vain;
I am that moment's slave when Saki says,
"Yet one more cup!" and that I cannot drain!

What boots the coming, going of the race?
And life's woof found, where will you life’s warp place?
Consumed so many pure men, turned to dust,
Where in Heaven's dome is there of them a trace?

I could repent of everything but wine!
And every other aid I could decline;
I never could turn Moslem, and this juice
From quarters of the Magians resign!

Earth's kitchen smoke consuming why remain?
How long o'er "Is" and "Is not" fret in vain?
A great loss to its people is the world;
That loss abjuring, you 'll enjoy all gain.

Seek not at night the people's hearts to smite.
Lest nightly they pray God their wrongs to right;
Nor riches, beauty, trust, for those the Fates
May bear away, and this,—this very night.

Pure ruby wine 's the jewel of our soul,
With loud lament we put aside the bowl,
For so much wine 's atop the wine we 've drunk.
We 're over wine and yet in wine's control!

Drink wine, for thy soul's ease 'twillever be.
For wounded heart and soul thy remedy;
If Sorrow's deluge would engulf thee, then
Seize thou on wine, 'tis a Noah's ark to thee!

The world 's a breath, and I a breath alone!
How many breaths can one draw in but one?
Grateful for life, rejoice! This faithless world
Ne'er steadfast did abide with any one!

Debauched, to wine and tavern we repair;
Hopeless of Mercy, naught for Pain we care,
Soul, heart, cup, raiment filled with dregs of wine,
We 're freed from earth and water, fire and air!

Those who the pearls of Learning thread in thought,
With fluent speech have of God's nature taught.
But none the clue's end of the Secret knows,
At first they prated, then they slumber sought!

Life's length beyond three-score seek not to trace;
Nor, save drunk, anywhere thy foot to place;
And ere thy skull they make into a bowl,
Set not from back thy jar, from hand thy glass!

The world's no place of joyance nor of rest,
The wise man to be lost in wine were best;
On Sorrow's fire then wine for water throw,
Ere wind in hand you sink into Earth's breast.

O, Sage, mere hope 's the morrow's prophecy.
And boast of fortune mere insanity;
To-day is like its fellows wise men know,
For the whole world a single Soul must be.

Wine is good though called bad in God's command.
And sweet 'tis when in youthful loved one's hand;
'T is bitter and forbid, yet sweet to me;
For always things are pleasant which are banned.

If one as Houri fair by marge of lea,
In Springtime sweet a brimming cup give me,
Though men this speech deem bad, if then I call
On Heaven, than I a dog would better be!

When my heart gets no solace for its pains,
My soul the lip but not its end attains;
My life reaches its goal unconsciously.
But ne'er the tale of love its object gains.

The bowl of Heaven of heart's delight is bare,
I know not in this world who 's free from care.
And since no soul can live apart from death,
What profit in a fruitless world is there?

What profit can there be in grieving vain?
Many like us hath Heaven seized and slain;
The cup fill ! set it in my hand to drink!
Quickly, for it doth everything sustain!

Thirsting, a cup my hand doth ne'er attain,
Nor doth my foot a solid basis gain.
My heart is disappointed in its hopes,
All objects of its cares unreached remain.

Like drop in mighty stream, like desert blast.
Another day from our lives flieth fast;
However two days' grief I reckon not,
The day to come and that already past!

Why art thou proud of house and fine array,
Since but a tale is this life's outcome? Nay,
The wind 's thy spouse, yet tapers thou would'st light;
Why build thy dwelling in the torrent's way?

Life's worn-out garb will ne'er be new again,
Nor worldly courses run as thou would'st fain;
Care's goblet broken then becomes Joy's cup;
Quaff wine in cups then, nor Care's goblet drain!

Though drink has torn my veil, while life have I,
Wine I 'll not leave. I 'm in perplexity
Concerning those who deal in wine, for they—
Better than that they sell, what will they buy?

How long shall I make bricks upon the sea?
I tire of temple and of devotee;
To-night I 'll pass with silver-bosomed maids,
What 's Heaven or Hell ? Loved one and wine give me!

Pour, Saki, musky red juice of the grape!
That we in wine contention may escape;
A jug pour of this vintage ere the time
That potters from our clay their goblets shape!

Now Ramazan is come, wine's season 's done,
Clear wine, our simple wont we 've quite foregone,
And all the drink we 've stored remains untouched
While uncaressed go our loves every one!

On Fortune's hem alluring young and old.
Untrammelled by your load at once take hold;
But if your hand for the emergency
Be short, give o'er, for long 's the tale when told.

Two hundred snares on all sides Thou dost lay,
“It is thy loss, if thou step'st in!" dost say.
Thou set'st the snare, and all who step therein,
Dost catch and call rebellious and then slay!

Thou ever bring'st to me O Destiny!
Sorrows and still to others remedy;
In peace what have I left undone for thee?
In war what is there thou dost not to me?

Since Life moves on, what matters sweet or sour?
What Balkh or Baghdad when the cup brims o'er?
Drink wine ! for oft this moon from new to full,
From full to new will pass and we no more!

What time my heart with youthful ardor wrought.
Few of Life's secrets were unknown, methought;
Now when I look about in Reason’s way,
My knowledge is as if the known were naught.

Give me wine which to my bruised heart doth prove
A balm, boon friend to those who mope for love;
Better, I hold, the dregs of but one draught
Than the world's hollow skull Heaven's dome above!

Wine jar and lover's lips in blossomed dell
Have filched thy credit and my cash as well;
The human tribe to Hell or Heaven is pledged,
But whoe'er came from Heaven or went to Hell?

Each vow we make we break again. The door
Of Fame and Shame shut on ourselves once more.
Blame me not if I act beside myself,
For I am drunk with Love's wine as before.

My heart no odds 'twixt bait and snare divines,
Toward mosque and cup alternately inclines;
In taverns better, wise with wine and love.
Than be a fool the cloister wall confines.

That spirit which is called pure wine, they say
Will grief of desolated hearts allay:
''Good water" why do they "bad water" call?
Quickly some cups well filled by me array!

Is wine rose red, the cup water of rose
Whose crystal casket a pure ruby shows?
Rubies dissolved in water it may be,
And moonlight be but sunlight veiled, who knows?

Wine-cup and tankard take, O dearest Love!
Joyous through blossomed mead by stream’s marge rove;
Many dear ones are turned a hundred times
To cups and jugs by vengeful Heaven above!

Reproach not drinkers, while you can refrain,
Avoid pretence and idle talk restrain;
If henceforth you desire a peaceful life,
The very humblest people ne'er disdain.

When all uprooted is my being’s tree,
And scattered wide become the parts of me,
If then they make a flagon of my clay,
When filled with wine alive at once 't will be.

Since Heaven's wheel never to thy wish hath run,
Would 'st thou eight Heavens or would 'st thou seven count on ?
There are two days that never trouble me,
The day to come and that already done.

Wine drinking 's frowned on in society,
Nor harp, nor flute, nor love at hand may be,
And revellers all have ceased wine worship, save
The Muhtasib who 's drunk continually!

I 've a breath left, thanks to the tapster's pains,
Yet among men nothing but discord reigns;
Not one maund more is left of last night’s wine,
But I know not what yet of life remains!

Fret not o'er worldly cares while you 've the power
Nor brood upon the past or coming hour;
Drink sweet wine in this halting place and pour;
Live to yourself! though you have treasured store.

Where 's minstrel, wine? The cry of morn that I
May give. He 's glad who doth the dawn-draught ply.
There are three things in this world sweet to me,
A head wine-flown, sweetheart and morning cry.

The rose' sweet scent a thorn-prick's worth, 'tis true;
If wine you drink, a headache 'tis worth, too.
The loved one who delights a thousand souls,
Is worth awaiting, give her but her due.

Saki, to part, in grief I 'm perishing,
Where you go to your hem my hand shall cling;
You go! A thousand hearts are grieved. Come back!
For you ten myriad souls the offering!

Boy, earth hath oft grown gay with rose and green,
That but a week before mere dust had been;
Drink wine and pluck the rose for while you look,
Rose turns to dust and green to refuse, e'en.

The morning draught of clear wine, boy, give me;
Give wine to those wrought to its ecstasy;
And tell a crumbling world we 're lost, enrapt
Within this Tavern of Mortality!

Leaving the world of dust, my dust I strew;
A hundred friends and foes I leave and go.
I, with your when and why have no concern,
So that in peace I go and strewing do.

Parcht Earth hath washed her cheek in vernal rain,
Time when thy broken heart grows whole again.
See ! Cheeks of down, grass-plot and wine!
Come, fool! For from thy dust the grass will spring amain!

Many a one hath lived ere thee and me,
That earth's four quarters hath made fair to see.
Thy body soon turns dust, for thousand times
Embodied elsewhere hath been dust of thee!

Since ne'er the Sphere turned as the sage is fain.
Would you the seven Heavens or the eight explain?
Since Death comes, wishes unfulfilled, as well
Devoured by ants in tomb as wolf on plain!

When bulbuls mid the flowers make melody,
Wine like the tulip in my hand must be,
Rather than ignorantly, ''Such a one
The cup in hand hath ta'en !" they 'd say of me.

One should not in the heart plant Sorrow's tree
But read the book of Gladness constantly.
One should quaff wine and seek his heart's desire,
For it is clear how long on earth you 'll be.

The cup of rosy wine in rose time drain!
To melody of pipe and lute's soft strain;
I tipple and rejoice; what should I do?
Go! bite the dust! if you from wine refrain!

Whole nights pass that we close our eyelids ne'er,
For when we breathe not, dawn will oft appear;
Up then ! and let us drink ere day, to set
The foot of Pleasure on the head of Care!

'T is dawn, arise, O Source of grace! and drain
The bowl of wine and sound the lute's soft strain!
For those who sleep (like thee) not long remain,
And they who Ve gone will ne'er come back again!

'Mid tavern revellers I am chief of all,
From acts of worship I to sin did fall,
And I am he who all night from strong wine,
With heart a bleeding unto Allah call.

In this world where each breath we draw in pain,
'T were best we breathe not save the cup to drain.
When dawn breaks, rise and drink all day, for when
We 've ceased to breathe, dawn oft will break again!

Our heads are turned by grape-juice constantly,
There 's naught save wine cups in our company,
Your preaching cease, O foolish votary!
To worship wine and loved one's lips we 're free.

Pregnant with life that goblet's frame behold!
Like jasmine that should purple buds enfold
Nay, I do err, since wine (to be quite nice),
Is water that a liquid fire doth hold!

Deceitful women's chatter do not hear;
From those well bred take grape juice sparkling clear.
Those who have risen one by one have gone,
But none gives token of returning e'er!

Sots, lovers, wine adorers we all are,
And lounging, tavern quarters ever share;
Seek reason not from us for we 're enrapt,
From good and bad, surmise and fancy far.

Although the Fates make earth fair to thine eyes,
There is one view wherein agree the wise;
Ere They take thee, thy share take, for like thee
Many depart, many will come likewise!

How long from man's injustice shame sustain?
Of cruel Fortune's fever bear the pain?
Arise! nor drink Care's cup, if you be man,
The Feast 'tis, come! while rose-hued wine we drain!

Up, up! O Saki, from that bed of thine!
Give, give! O Saki, pure juice of the vine!
Or e'er They flagons make from our head bowls,
From flagon into bowl do thou pour wine!

The cup of wine is better with my love,
And tearful eye when she from sight doth rove;
Since this base world will not keep faith, in it
To be o'ercome by wine doth better prove.

Drink to your sprightly charmer's visage fair
The cure when bitten by the asp of Care;
I quaff, rejoice, 't is well ! What should I do?
Go! Get you hence, if grape-juice you drink ne'er!

Let not things still to come blanch your cheeks' hue,
Nor present things your breast with fear imbue;
And reap your harvest in this wicked world
Ere Fortune's favors are withdrawn from you.

Toward limpid wine be my inclining still,
To viol's note and flute's melodious trill;
If potters fashion from my clay a jar.
May juice of grapes that vessel ever fill!

That day when vine-juice bides not in my head,
Time's proffered cure would poison be instead;
World's care is poison, wine its antidote,
I drink the cure, since I the poison dread.

You are excusable if you strive o'er
That which you eat and drink of this world's store;
All else mere trifles weigh, have then a care
Lest your dear life you sacrifice therefor.

If roses be not ours, let thorns suffice!
And night, if for us no dawn's light doth rise;
And if our beads, prayer rug and Shaikh we lack,
With bell and church, the zone their place supplies.

Glance on the friendless, Saki, for God’s sake!
Do you the idol of our senses break!
Life's water for God's love, then bring to us!
Moonstruck are we, in union to partake!

In ruin haunt, with song and juice of vine,
Heart, faith, and mind and soul we pawn for wine;
With heads awhirl, wine built atop of wine,
The structure left but bubbles is in fine.

O Heart, seek not kind rule from Destiny,
Nor from Time's turning, high or rich to be;
Seek you to ease your pain? It doth increase;
Bear suffering and seek no remedy!

To this age wherein we both come and go,
Beginning, end nor boundary doth show;
No one can speak the truth upon this point.
For whence we come and where we go, none know.

Life's mystery as 't is in our book enrolled,
Our secret since 'twould wrong, may not be told;
Since midst unknowing men none worthy is,
Not all can be revealed our minds enfold.

Though thy head ache, the cup fill of that wine
Which still another life doth add to thine,
Give it to me ! But tales are earth's affairs!
Haste now ! for passing is this life of mine!

We ‘ve traversed many a vale and desert plain,
Nor did from all our search one need attain;
If unkind Fortune once in my life gave
Aught good, 't was in an instant gone again!

Give, boy! that wine which is the world's delight;
Which to Joy's rose is as the moonlight bright!
Haste, for the fire of youth as water flows
And Fortune's waking is a dream of night!

'T were strange if war 'gainst us the Heavens on high
Wage not, and if our heads with stones not ply;
The Cadi who sells trust-funds, wine to buy,
'T were strange 'gainst him should mosque-schools raise no cry.

Wine, boy, to me is knowledge and good name.
Although to fools drinking be sin and shame;
Without it since man's business comes to naught,
Knowledge alone should be man's only aim.

Since idly pass yester-fore-yesterday,
And go alike toils, cares, joy and dismay,
To-day whate'er befalls you, still be gay,
For as this secret comes, cares pass away.

Boy, 'tis a world of gloom ! the cup prepare!
Yet save thy face no well of life is there;
Of life, soul and whate'er is in the world,
Praised be the Prophet! but for thee I care?

How long grieve I that from this old cell here
Nor head nor body things to me appear ?
Ere I bind on my load to leave this house,
Saki, give wine, for that alone can cheer.

Your being from the worthless you should hide,
Your secret to all fools should be denied,
See you be careful how you deal with men,
Your hopes to all men you should not confide.

Art thou no hunter? Of the chase ne'er prate;
O'er aught uncalled for venture not debate;
With thine eyes the Traditions keep in sight
When graybeards would have thee the truth relate.

This dust was of Bokhara's sage's way,
(A man of high distinction in his day.)
Here where you now set foot, think certainly
Some mighty hero's hand, this piece of clay!

Saki, since life 's a breath, a cup give me!
If joy an instant last, enough 'twill be;
Since naught befalls to any one’s desire,
Be glad of whate'er from Fate comes to thee.

Bear thou with pain and live contentedly.
And from the bonds of Avarice be free;
Seek not aggrandizement of self, nor grieve,
Lean not on less than thou, live joyfully!

Saki, my heart 's aflame with yearning vain,
Return, for you 're the leech for lovers' pain,
Life-giving hope to me is in your step,
And while life 's left doth hope with me remain.

Saki, my heart that knows not joy for woe.
Save wine-cups this world's pleasures doth not know;
Give wine, for morning's breath this life revives
And none save Christ knows what it doth bestow.

Why, Saki, after Heaven this longing vain?
Save wine and thee what can in Heaven remain?
We have both here and there too, better than
Thyself and wine what do both worlds contain ?

O boy, 't is pleasant and the moon doth shine,
A point of dogma's Heaven, so give us wine.
You know that Death like lightning, harvests burns,
Which whilst you look your harvest burns and mine.

I said still will be true the faith of thee
To its first aim from all eternity,
And yet as earth's foundation stones infirm
I know, O mine eyes Light, thy faith will be!

Thy moon-cheek, Saki, life for all I find,
Enchanting me, bewitching every mind!
O, sun-like ! liquid sunshine 's not so fair!
And not alone to me but all mankind!

Bearer! my ancient friend is good old wine,
My faith's life with the daughter of the Vine.
They say faith and wine-drinking ne'er agree;
I drink wine for wine-drinking's faith is mine.

I fear, grieving for you, who 's not? O, who,
Saki? Nor knows my patience your cheek's due?
By Heaven I swear that you are my desire
And in my heart dwells none save only you!

Saki, a glance ! for my heart 's reft by care;
The lion-like have empty left the lair:
Thou bowl of Heaven with bubbles foam'st each night.
But now it is my turn, the bowl is bare.

Know why I ne'er to penitence incline?
It is because 't is lawful to drink wine:
It is forbid indeed to the profane,
Be adepts' drinking on this head of mine!

A liquid life is flowing in the bowl,
That spirit flows in its embodied soul;
'T is frozen water filled with liquid fire,
A ruby mine in crystal cups doth roll!

I 'll lay no brick, but foot on tile will press,
And henceforth wine by garden verge possess;
I 'll not burn for each trifle, nor is 't well
Life to the last with evil to distress.

O, friend come! and the morrow's care allay,
And this cash moment treasure while we may;
Our sins exist not save by His command,
Then why should we fret o'er the Coming Day?

Arise, come sweep the hand o'er the lute's frame!
Again let 's drink wine and strike name on shame;
When wine we quaff in taverns let us drink,
And on stones smite the glass of shame and fame!

We 'll grasp the faithless loved one's garment hem,
Drink wine and good name will we clash with shame,
And sell the prayer-rug for a single cup,
Squander and shatter on the stones, fair fame!

How many patched and rotten dolts there be
Who tread not paths of truth and purity!
How many boasters caught by foolish prate
Mar names of good repute with infamy!

He who of faith's hope doth unworthy seem,
As water clear this doubtful point doth deem,
To make God's prescience the cause of sin,
To men of sense seems ignorance extreme.

The sage drinks not Care's draught of grieving vain,
And naught save brimming cup on cup doth drain.
Let grief be in the heart so wine 's in flask,
But plague take him who grieves, nor wine hath ta'en!

With naught save reason in its way agree,
Accept no bad friend when good friends there be;
Be of contented mind nor self contained
If thou would'st have the world approve of thee.

No rose doth Fortune uprear from the clay
But she doth break and then in dust doth lay:
If just as clouds raise water they raised clay,
'T would rain blood of the great till Judgment Day!

Quaff wine! for grief from thy soul it doth bear.
The thought of both the worlds and all their care;
Choose flowing fire ! for Life's water 't is.
That when thou art but earth lifts thee in air!

Those who lead lives of abstinence, all say
That just as men die even so rise they,
For this we persevere with love and wine,
That They may raise us up in the same way.

The Feast has come and things will be made right,
Pure wine, boy, will be poured in goblets bright,
Prayer's bridle and the halter of the Fast
From asses' heads they 'll loose the Festal Night.

Cheer up ! for new the Festal moon will glow,
And none in his affairs a need will know.
O, Saki ! if you give us wine or not,
Know that the heads of all will be laid low!

In death's hour when my case the Fates array,
No idle words at my bed let them say.
When men set at my grave a tile, be sure
That they with wine (not water) shape its clay.

If of this life one instant is left thee,
Let it not pass except in gaiety.
Beware ! for this world's capital is life
Which thus drawn on, soon passed away will be.

Outcast my body poor away doth wear,
The home's sweet converse it hath tasted ne'er,
My life doth pass and knows no time of joy.
The recompense of my term will be where?

Alertness, joy and vigor rise from wine,
Where drought and cold rise in that soul of thine.
If thou quaff (rosy) wine, thou 'It be like it;
Herb eating doth the cheek with sallow line.

A man should be, and necessarily,
From crown to sole in pain, and constantly
Love's lesson he should ever study o'er
And as dust in the Friend's street should he be.

A fever holds my bones, for sick am I,
And abstinence from wine my life doth try;
Behold this wonder, whate'er I consume
In sickness all save wine 's my injury.

Youth has gone, horse and foot, and now to me
Life bitter is, though that wine 's essence be,
This body once as arrow straight is bent
As bow I Ve strung with staff drawn joyously.

The month of Ramazan as it comes this year
On Wit's foot is a shackle hard to wear:
O mighty God, make people negligent,
So that they may think that Shawwal is here!

You should seek with grape's nectar, love's embrace
Far from the world some streamlet's marge to grace,
Like roses though life's joys last their few days,
One should wear smiling lip and cheerful face.

Since ne'er doth hand the hem of longing gain
Nor to the heart's desire the soul attain,
Give me a glass and go, for cup unmixed
To none comes from yon turquoise bowl to drain !

For down that nestles on the loved one's face
Think not diminished is her loveliness,
The rose in her cheek's garden is adorned
With verdure for the spirit's pleasure place.

'T is base sin now to friendship to pretend,
Where is man's love? and where a noble friend?
The skirt 'tis better to draw in with all,
And distant speech and greeting to extend.

Mere dregs within Love's path the purest are;
And in its quest the great as small compare;
To-day is as to-morrow, night and morn,
Who seek the morrow die in its despair.

Since 'gainst my will the Pen my fate doth trace,
Why then its good and bad upon me placer
Yesterday like to-day regards us not,
To-morrow why cite us the Judge to face?

I will drink wine the while my life shall be.
Though my world's harvest show deficiency.
O, world's soul ! in this world I 'll gaily live!
How know I if the next world be for me?

The foe who ever evil in me spies,
Doth surely not see with a vision wise;
Into the mirror of himself he looks,
And that dead form takes hue from his own eyes!

Evil a good man should not countenance,
Nor should one troubled be for sustenance;
111 motives should not be a guide in faith,
Nor should one boast himself in excellence.

A need to man is learning, people say.
In high position ancestry need they;
Now ancient things are naught, 't is gold one needs.
So sordid are the people of our day.

Excuses for the love of thee abound,
Many enrapt of thee thy pasans sound;
Why draw the sword of thy glance killing us
Since for us there are many lashes found?

Th' eternal secrets revellers know alone,
The wine cup's power to close-fists is not shown;
Though my case you deem strange, there ’s no doubt that
The sot's case is by drinkers only known.

Those ancient things and those things that are new
Each one by one its end attains unto,
For this base world abides with none for aye,
They pass and others come and follow, too.

The zealot's sackcloth I will put away;
With whitened locks the wine cup I 'll essay;
My life 's reached seventy years, if I do not
Rejoice this moment, ah, when shall I, pray?

“From lip to jar's lip what dost thou divine?"
Quoth jar "It means that my lip is like thine;"
“At last, when like my being thou 'rt no more,
By God's decree thy lip becomes as mine!"

Those who in learning's matters would excel
Alas ! the burden ox they 'd milk as well,
Better the dress of folly they put on,
For now for wisdom, wine-dregs they would sell!

Thy tresses mock the musk of all Cathay,
To thy red lip the soul 's attuned for aye,
The cypress to thy stature I 've compared,
Exalting the straight cypress from that day!

Old Sphere! each day of thy course, the palm tree
Of my joy is uprooted quite by thee;
'T is strange those underserving thy snare-place,
No one should tell, "'T is dagnerous, let be!"

The loved one's ruby lip press close, O wine!
Since this that thou dost hold is superfine:
Cup, be content from tulip-wine to part,
Since with heart's blood it brings her lip to thine!

Suppose all worldly needs be granted you;
And life well rounded, gained the term's end, too;
You say, “I 'll strike hand on my heart's desire."
You cannot; if you can, suppose you do!

Since 'tis man's lot here in this world forlorn
To yield his life, the soul by sorrow worn,
Happy his heart who never here drew breath,
At peace the one never of mother born.

Suppose by Fate thy head exalted be,
Life's joys possessed in their entirety,
Whate'er thy heart can wish of gold and gems
Enjoyed suppose, then passed away from thee!

I said “Again I quaff not rose-hued wine,
Blood I drink not, and 'tis blood of the vine."
An old man said, “Do you speak honestly?"
Quoth I, ''I jest when drinking I decline."

Though in whatever course I wing my way,
For love of thee whatever I essay,
The tears ne'er for a moment cease to flow,
Until some other point my eyes survey.

Thou art come to perform thy sovereignty,
Bethink thyself, quit this depravity;
Naught yesterday, to-morrow thou 'It be naught,
'T is clear to-day what will be done by thee.

Beyond man's lot here, naught can we discern,
It is no easy task this truth to learn;
Drain then one draught of this pure wine, until
No more God's creatures give thee no concern.

If I no headache got from last night’s wine,
Drinking by daylight ne'er were choice of mine.
Sayest thou then ''Choose thou to drink by day?"
Day drinking ne'er to fortune doth incline.

Suppose earth, pole to pole, in gold array,
And hundred golden stores and gems display;
And at the last these treasures like the snow
Three days lain on the waste, then passed away!

Lord, Thou hast graced that love-exciting fair
With hyacinthine, amber-scented hair,
Then bid'st us not look on her! This command
Is just like saying, “Hold awry! Spill ne'er!"

They say, I 'm a wine worshiper, I am.
Notorious and reveller, I am.
Regard not much my outside for within
Such as I am (as they aver), I am.

In stress and search we 've fallen night and day,
Put in confusion, up and down we stray;
Nothing our travel yields save further pain,
And naught remains at last save the Long Way.

When dead, nor food nor sleep 's required by thee,
These Four Mates will bring thee to beggary;
Each what he gave thee will take back again,
Till as thou wert at first thou com'st to be!

O, friend ! In this vain life be not forlorn,
Nor bootless, worry in this world outworn!
When Life is past, Non-Being disappears,
Take heart ! Nor fret about that world unborn!

O learned doctor! if there 's sense in thee,
Look not on worthy folk with enmity;
They talk of the Creator and His works,
Thou of blood courses and obscenity!

You Ve neither wit nor worth, O Sphere on high!
The welfare of the worthy you pass by;
You give to grasping men treasures and gems;
Sphere that protects the weak, well done! say I.

O, base wheel! vile and full of treachery!
Thou ne'er dost turn as any would have thee!
O wheel, thy wont the No-ones, Some-ones thus,
And Some-ones, No-ones oft doth make to be!

If I the leaf of life from sorrow turn,
Wine's laugh I ‘ll cause to bubble in the urn.
Arise ! let brimming wine-cups circling pass,
Perchance I 'll overcome the world's concern!

How long wilt thou oppress me, wheel on high?
For God's sake use me with more lenity!
I 'm all afire each instant and yet thou
My burning breast with melted salt dost ply!

The pure face, that from soiling is quite free,
A new-come guest in this dust world must be.
Give wine! thou co-mate of the morning draught
Ere they say "Eventide God bless to thee!"

Sphere, in thy dizzy madness lure not me!
Think of my vain boasts, thy humility;
I weary of my grief and poverty,
And of this my own being constantly!

Heed not, Heart, warnings of thought-taking vain;
Give up anxiety! the wine cup drain!
Be free, yet bound as one who worships wine,
So man become and thus perfection gain.

Love in his pleasant toils hath taken me;
"Since I have come, get out of this! " said he,
In short, disturbed by him, my heart so burns,
Fire fuel, fuel fire is come to be!

From others. Heart, to seek things banned, beware!
Live cheerily, to ease thy soul from care!
Sitting apart, endure thy grief thyself,
And with thy friend desire the cup to share!

Quaff sparkling wine with fair one at thy side,
From foes' oppression far, with sweetheart bide!
Sit with a smooth-cheeked maid and self forget;
And doff the robe of vanity and pride!

Counsels of prudence O Heart, never heed!
Let self like Him from bonds of sense be freed!
Sit at the Feast of Meaning's kalenders;
Quaff wine ! Live gaily and be free indeed!

Drink! nor thy practice nor thy theory
But God's mercy and grace protecteth thee.
That stupid sect that ne'er partakes of wine
All squint-eyed cattle thou may'st count to be.

The Feast 'tis! come! the rose-hued vintage drain
To murm'ring harp and lute's melodious strain!
With loved one, light of heart, a moment sit
And, heavy measure, drink and yet again!

O Heart! deceivers' sophistry ne'er heed,
That pure wine mind or faith harms. If you need
Ease in your heart and vigor in your soul,
Quaff wine to music in some rose-gemmed mead!

Each mote on Earth's face that hath been ere now
Was once a sunlit cheek or Venus brow;
Blow the dust gently from your loved one's face,
For that was once love's cheek and ringlet too!

Ere at Fate's hand we drink the Draught of Pain,
To-day with one another wine we 'll drain;
For the Death Angel in our passing hour,
To drink e'en water will no quarter deign.

Wine old and bitter I drink all I can,
And e'en ere Friday nights in Ramazan,
The grape itself made lawful, in the jar,
Lord, make not bitter, drinking it to ban!

Together clasp we hands in amity,
On Care's head set the foot of Gaiety;
Arise we and breathe deep ere break of dawn,
For dawn will oft break when no more breathe we!

The zealot's coat on wine-jar tops we bind,
Ablution we 've to tavern dust confined,
The life we lost in mosque schools, yet perchance
Within the wine-house precincts we may find!

Like fire though we mount Heaven’s infinity,
Than flowing water though more pure we be,
Into the earth we go fiDr we 're but dust,
The world 's but air ! Give wine, the while drink we!

O Lord! though limitless the sins I do,
Against my youth and soul and body too,
'T is that I have entire faith in Thee
If sinning, I repent and sin anew!

I fear that since the world we 'll ne'er regain,
We 'll never gather with our friends again:
While living let us profit by to-day,
We to such moments may no more attain.

Though wine to Faith and Law be contrary,
From fretting o'er the past it doth free me:
Know'st Thou why wine I love thus? 'Tis because
An instant freed from self I live with Thee.

Lord, at my low estate I 'm in distress,
With my sad heart and empty-handedness,
Since life Thou mak'st from naught, from naught bring me
Into the being of Thy Holiness!

Since Pleasure's steed in Thy way we have prest,
No moment known unfilled by mirth and jest,
Alas ! 't is as the door not known by us,
At some thief's haunt that we had made our nest!

In hand a flowing sword there is for me,
Through which will ever be my victory;
My foe's heart constantly with envy burns,
To me a cup for wine his skull would be!

Blood comes forth ever from my saddened heart,
And from the eye like tear-drops it doth part,
Blood from my eyelashes no marvel is,
For underneath from thorns the rose doth start.

My ill repute transcends the Heavens high,
My precious life hath thirty years passed by;
'T is little joy since youth hath passed away.
To grasp a hundred cups successively.

Thy curl to nestle o'er thy face desires;
That rebel Turk uprising still inspires;
Thine eye within thine eyebrow's prayer-niche sits,
Rapt infidel! to Imamship aspires!

As in Reproach's vale I fain would go,
And tend in others' wrong a glance to show,
From this rule when earth's ways I see, 't is well
To draw the skirt in and the world forego.

He who so featly could proportion thee,
Ever hath power to crush thine enemy.
"Who flagons makes no Moslem is!" they say.
To Him who shapes the gourd thy praises be.

Go not this way, thence springs Duality,
Or if not, from such wandering it may be;
Thou 'It ne'er be Fie, but if thou strivest hard,
Thou 'It reach a place where thyself parts from thee.

He is no man whom people all despise,
Yet they count good, fearing his injuries;
The drinker who withholds a generous hand,
Is a mean chap in every drinker's eyes.

From this ass-tribe what dost thou profit, pray?
Why learning they 'll not buy of thee purvey?
Not once a year they 'll give stream-water, but
Thine honor filch a hundred times a day!

I have no mate in this controversy,
My own lament my bosom friend will be;
Though since mine eye is ever filled with tears,
I 'll end my grief before my grief ends me.

Souls melted all and hearts all blood will be;
When from behind the Veil shall truth we see?
Alas! despite thy wit the base Sphere's course
From thee doth earth bear and from thy course thee!

There is no place without its mystery,
The heart 'twixt great and little naught can see.
Each sect but follows in its leader’s way,
Save in Love's path where leaders never be.

First brisk and swift, as wind I 'd come and go
Ere my strong body weak began to grow,
From weakness now as breath of those who 're sick,
I come and go with feeble breath and slow.

If Saki, from thy hand my heart would go,
Like to the sea from self where would it flow?
Give to the Sufi but a single draught,
Like thin vase filled with self he 'd overflow.

Heaven, Saki, is but foam from thy gifts' sea;
Many souls Ka'bahs in thy quarters be;
'Tis glory the soul's Ka'bah to attain,
Death on its way is glory, too, for me.

Saki, a glance, for joy is in thy sight,
And gladdened souls from gleaning thy delight!
And our unspoken mind thy heart doth know,
The lovers' Jamshed's cup, thy heart shines bright!

If on earth's face of weapons I 've but one,
It is wine's price though that good name hath none;
"To-morrow," they say, "wine's price is not thine."
'T is mail and turban cloth of Miriam-spun.

My life a good man's sacrifice shall be,
I 'd lay my head at his feet readily.
If you would know for certain what is Hell,
A Hell on earth is evil company.

They come whose faith rests but in fallacies,
'Twixt soul and body draw distinctions nice;
If on my head they 'd place a saw, I 'll put
The wine jar on it after this, likewise.

Lovers distraught and rapt are we to-day,
Wine, in the idols' street we worship pay,
And from our own existence wholly freed,
Still in the prayer-niche of ALAST we stay.

With thy cheeks' sweat our wine is filled, Saki,
Eyes follow, but the Eye may not reach thee,
There is no fount of grace save thy red lip,
A hundred Khizer Christs thy wine draughts be!

Each solace and delight God doth confer,
Is for the solitary wayfarer;
Each by divorce becomes changed as in sleep.
Ease gaining doth himself to Heaven transfer.

Whene'er you find my heart grown watery,
You in its corner many a wreck will see,
If in the sea of mine eye you will plunge,
You 'll find a merman there, save lost you be.

That Day of this clay house the sanctified
Again the steed of their own bodies ride,
Like tulip do not moisten me with blood,
Or ris'en from thy street's dust I may abide.

When Nature with thy will 's in harmony.
Be just, though every breath oppresseth thee;
Sit with the wise, for water, fire and air,
With earth too, form the base of thee and me.

Hashish is better for all men's heart pains,
They say, than cup and wine to lute's soft strains;
By Law one wine drop clearly better than
A hundred bang users' blood thus remains!

In the wine-house of Love I offer prayer,
At her cheek's lamp afire and melting there,
And with Affection's wine ablution made,
Adore the visage of my idol fair.

The bearer whose lips life to rubies give,
In his grief, heart, strength, and soul, food receive.
Whoe'er in his grief's deluge is not drowned,
Within some Noah's ark must cabined live.

Thou lurkest in the cup, O pleasing wine!
Sound Reason's feet in bonds thou dost entwine;
Whoever drinks of thee no quarter gets
Till oped his pearl in his palm placed doth shine.

Those known alike to old and young by name,
In streets who beg for bread and water, claim
"Shiblis are we and all of us Junaids!"
No Shiblis they, though known in Karkh to fame.

Since Saki knows my sort especially,
He draws a hundred kinds of subtlety,
When I pause he gives wine of his own wont
And by the limit of myself brings me!

Those who to dignities themselves upraise,
At last in poverty all end their days;
"Poor! Poor!" they all cry dying; that sect too,
Which goes about in charitable ways.

How long shall we men's arrogance sustain?
And from base Fortune's juggling suffer pain?
Cheer up! For days of "Taraweh" have passed,
The Feast 'tis, come! while rose-hued wine we drain!

Saki, loud sounds the clamor of our woes;
My drunkenness beyond all limit goes;
White-haired I 'm gay, for seeing thy cheeks' down,
Though old my head, my heart Spring freshness knows!

Alas that this hound, eager, flying fast,
With which, thy mate, thou goest with the blast,
For as much as its heart to bone inclines,
Its lot the boar's teeth will be at the last.

The Good Guide tells where feasts of wise souls be,
And right and left of Rome and Araby.
If the unworthy say that wine’s impure,
How should I list, since God calls it purity?

How long of this life's fraud and treachery,
Bearer, how long life's very dregs give me?
Till from its strife and grief, as but a draught,
I pour to earth what left of life may be.

Who bade thee bleed from worldly care, O heart?
In Fate's abode of coquetry to smart?
Know'st what to do? Since here 's no resting place,
As if thou 'd ne'er come hither, so depart.

When from the body thy bright gem doth roam,
With other sorts of beings choose thy home,
Men come and go and no one understands
When 'neath clay what doth to thy body come.

Alack! that gaining naught worn out are we
Shorn by the scythe of headlong Destiny!
Alas! since in the twinkling of an eye,
Unreached our wishes, naught we come to be!

Whenever joyous on this green are we,
And like yon green-gray steed of Heaven we see,
With green-downed ones I 'll green quaff on the green,
Or ever under green in dust we be!

Concerning Fortune's failures grieve thou less;
Seek grape-juice and the loved one's fond embrace;
For him come from his mother's womb to-day,
To-morrow thou 'It see in some woman's chase.

We are of fire, wind, water and of clay;
In death are we too, 'mid this life's array.
When with us is the body we 're distressed,
But souls sublime when it has passed away.

To noble spirits, "Vain is knowledge," say;
They know all that befalls, the soul doth sway.
The King commands whatever us betides;
For all that moves in both worlds blameless they.

My heart, boy, than the dead is wearier!
For they 'neath clay than it more tranquil are.
Howe'er with tears of blood I wash my skirt,
My skirt than mine eyes is more stained by far!

Say not, "God's grace is hard to gain, I trow!"
Speak of repentance for 'tis naught you know;
Talk less of sugar-lipped sweet youths, for that's
Not Islam, when one penitence should show.

From that jar of old wine called "end in clay,"
Fill! for my heart a great desire doth sway;
Since earth beneath the clay hath great desire,
With this clay of desire do you away!

If thorn in Khavaran's wide waste remain,
From wandVing lovers' blood it bears the stain;
Where'er maid, fairy-faced, rose-cheeked there be,
For us then troubles all begin again!

Old age bent over totters to its end,
My cheek's pomegranate flowers some color lend;
The roof and doors and cornerstones and walls
Of Being’s house to desolation tend.

As wind to her tress, hard 't is to attain,
And hard on Grief's steed to draw bridle-rein;
They say the eye its own face cannot see,
Be it our eye her glance were hard to gain.

The soul proceeds upon the dangerous way,
The body freed of good and bad 'neath clay;
Full many travellers will pass over us
Who witless of both worlds to dust decay!

A daily happening, thou us drunk dost see,
In ringlets snared, idolaters are we;
The turban dropped from head and cup from hand,
Head prostrate at thy feet abased we be.

The fruit of truth on earth can never grow.
Since in this path none rightly e'er doth go;
All feebly grasp the brittle branch: regard
To-day as past, as first to-morrow know.

"Thy tress-tip hath devoured many a head,"
Quoth I, "Be still, if thou art wise," she said.
Then I, "Some day of thy form I 'll partake,"
And she, "Was any of a cypress fed?"

My highest wisdom Thy cause ne'er hath known
And my thought turns in prayer to Thee alone!
I know Thy nature is most wonderful
And baffles mortal wit since 'tis Thine own!

When my heart’s ardor oft was unrestrained
Methought few mysteries unsolved remained.
Seventy-two years I’ve pondered every day
And know none hath the true solution gained.

My heart to wisdom is not closed, you say,
And but few mysteries unknown. To-day
When I view all things wisely, I perceive
That naught is known and life hath passed away.

Now Eden's Heaven doth but a waste remain
(A day's work should two garden plots sustain.)
To-morrow since the world is bright and fair,
How should we bring back yesterday again?

Pour grape juice that a beaker friends may drain
And sound sweet song and flute's melodious strain
Ere Death parts many a meeting! It may be
That They our sins will ne'er recall again!

Alas! thou 'rt gone; thy grief stays in my heart
Like camp-fire left when caravan doth depart;
What *s out of sight oft leaves the heart and yet
Though gone from sight still in my soul thou art!

I gave, thou gav'st, I heart, thou coquetry;
Thou art, I am, thou glad, I sad for thee;
Thou tak'st, I take, thou my heart, I thy pain;
Thou doest wrong, I do bear injury!

How long in this unjust world shall we stay,
Passing from day to night, from night to day?
O fools, behold the cup! for from our purse
Unconsciously existence slips away!

O Beauty's Lamp! by stream and verdant plain
Pour wine, thy vows break, sound the zittern's strain!
Live blithely, for the murmuring water saith,
"Lo, when I ‘ve gone I come not back again!"

Anet, Claude [1920]

Bodenstedt, Friedrich [1881]

Boutens, P.C. [1913]

Cadell, H.M. [1899]

Castellot, Jose [1918]

Christensen, A. [1927]

FitzGerald, E. [1859-1879]

Gallienne, Richard le [1897]

Garner, J.L. [1888]

Grolleau, Charles [1902]

Heron-Allen [1898]

Leopold, J.H. [1911-1926]

McCarthy, J.H. [1889]

Nicolas, J.-B. [1867]

Rodwell, E.H. [1931]

Rosen, F. [1909 & 1919]

Rosen, F. [1928]

Schack, A.F. von [1878]

Thompson, E.F. [1906]

Whinfield, E.H. [1883]