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Rubaiyat - Omar Khayyam of Naishapur August 19, 2006 7:49 AM

I

Awake !! for Morning in the Bowl of Night
Has flung the Stone that puts the Stars to Flight:
And Lo ! the Hunter of the East has caught
The Sultan's Turret in a Noose of Light.

II

Dreaming, when Dawn's left Hand was in the Sky,
I heard a voice within the Tavern cry,
"Awake, my little ones, and fill the Cup
Before Life's Liquor in its Cup be dry."
  

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 August 19, 2006 7:55 AM

III

And, as the Cock crew, those who stood before

The Tavern Shouted-"Open then the Door !

You know how little while we have to stay,

And, once departed, may return no more."

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 August 21, 2006 6:31 PM

IV

Now, the New Year reviving old Desires,

The toughtful Soul to Solitude retires,

Where the White Hand of Moses on the Bough

Puts out, and Jesus from the Grounds suspires.

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anonymous  August 22, 2006 1:06 AM

V

Iram indeed is gone with all its Rose,

And Jamshyd's Sev'n-ring'd Cup where no one knows;

But still the Vine her ancient Ruby yields,

And still a Garen by the Water blows.

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anonymous  August 22, 2006 1:08 AM

VI

And David's Lips are lock't; but in divine

High piping Pelevi, with "Wine! Wine! Wine!

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

That yellow Cheek of hers to'incarnadine.

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anonymous  August 22, 2006 1:10 AM

VII

Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring

The Winter Garment of Repentance fling:

The Bird of Time has but a little way

To fly -- and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing.

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anonymous  August 22, 2006 1:12 AM

VIII

And look -- a thousand Blossoms with the Day

Woke -- and a thousand scattr'd into Clay:

And this first Summer Month that brings the Rose

Shall take Jamshyd and Kaikobad away.

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 August 22, 2006 7:25 PM

IX

But come with old Khayyam, and leave the Lot

of Kaikobad and Kaikhosru forgot :

Let Rustum lay about him as he will,

or Hatim Tai cry Supper---heed them not.

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 August 22, 2006 7:28 PM

X

With me along some Strip of Herbage strown

That just divides the sert from the sown,

Where name of Slave and Sultan scarce is known,

And pity Sultan Mahmud on Throne.

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anonymous  September 13, 2006 3:28 AM

XI

Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,

A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse -- and Thou

Beside me singing in the Wilderness --

And Wilderness is Paradise enow.

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anonymous  September 13, 2006 3:30 AM

XII

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

Others -- "How blest the Paradise to come!"

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

Oh, the brave Music of a distant Drum!

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anonymous  September 13, 2006 3:32 AM

XIII

Look to the Rose that blows about us -- "Lo,

Laughing," she says, "into the World I blow:

At once the silken Tassel of my Purse

Tear, and its Treasure on the Garden throw."

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anonymous  September 13, 2006 3:33 AM

XIV

The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon

Turns Ashes -- or it prospers; and anon,

Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty Face

Lighting a little Hour or two -- is gone.

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anonymous  September 24, 2006 3:02 AM

XV

And those who husbanded the Golden Grain,

And those who flung it to the Winds like Rain,

Alike to no such aureate Earth are turn'd

As, buried once, Men want dug up again.

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anonymous  September 24, 2006 3:03 AM

XVI

Think, in this batter'd Caravanserai

Whose Doorways are alternate Night and Day,

How Sultan after Sultan with his Pomp

Abode his Hour or two, and went his way.

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 November 20, 2006 5:44 PM

                           XVII

They say the Lion and the Lizard keep

The Courts where Jamshyd gloried and drank deep:

And Bahram, that great Hunter - the Wild Ass

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

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anonymous  November 20, 2006 5:57 PM

XVIII

I sometimes think that never blows so red

The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled;

That every Hyacinth the Garden wears

Dropt in its Lap from some once lovely Head.

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 November 20, 2006 6:03 PM

                              XIX

And this delightful Herb whose tender Green

Fledges the River's Lip on which we lean -

Ah, lean upon it lightly ! for who knows

From what once lovely Lip it springs unseen !

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anonymous  November 20, 2006 6:31 PM

XX

Ah! my Beloved, fill the Cup that clears

To-Day of past Regrets and future Fears --

To-morrow? ---Why, To-morrow I may be

Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n Thousand Years.

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anonymous  November 27, 2006 7:47 PM

XXI

Lo! some we loved, the loveliest and the best

That Time and Fate of all their Vintage prest,

Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before,

And one by one crept silently to Rest.

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 November 28, 2006 6:25 PM

                                        XXII

And we, that now make merry in the Room

They left, and Summer dresses in new Bloom,

Ourselves must we beneath the Couch of Earth

Descend, ourselves to make a Couch - for whom?

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anonymous  December 18, 2006 1:29 AM

XXIII

Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,

Before we too into the Dust Descend;

Dust into Dust, and u nder Dust, to lie,

Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer and -- sans End!

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anonymous  December 18, 2006 1:30 AM

XXIV

Alike for those who for TO-DAY prepare,

And those that after a TO-MORROW stare,

A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries

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

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anonymous  December 18, 2006 1:32 AM

XXV

Why, all the Saints and Sages who discuss'd

Of the Two Worlds so learnedly, are thrust

Like foolish Prophets forth; their Words to Scorn

Are scatter'd, and their Mouths are stopt with Dust.

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anonymous  December 31, 2006 1:01 AM

Oh, come with old Khayyam, and leave the Wise

To talk; one thing is certain, that Life flies;

One thing is cergain, and the Rest is Lies;

The Flower that once has blown for ever dies.

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anonymous  December 31, 2006 1:03 AM

XXVII

Myself when young did eagerly frequent

Doctor and Saint, and heard great Argument

About it and about:  but evermore

Came out by the same Door as in I went.

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anonymous  December 31, 2006 1:04 AM

XXVIII

With them the Seed of Wisdom did I sow,

And with my own hand labour'd it to grow:

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

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

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anonymous  December 31, 2006 1:06 AM

Into this Universe, and why not knowing,

Nor whence, like Water willy-illy flowing:

And out of it, as Wind along the Waste,

I know not whither, willy-nilly blowing.

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anonymous  December 31, 2006 1:08 AM

%#&!*%

What, without asking, hither hurried whence?

And, without asking, whither hurried hence!

Another and another Cup to drown

The Memory of this Impertinence!

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anonymous  January 27, 2007 10:30 PM

XXXI

Up from Earth's Centre through the seventh Gate

I rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate,

And many Knots unravel'd by the Road;

But not the Knot of Human Death and Fate.

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anonymous  March 19, 2007 3:32 AM

XXXII

There was a Door to which I found no Key:

There was a Veil past which I could not see:

Some little Talk awhile of Me and Thee

There seemed--and then no more of Thee and Me.

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 March 25, 2007 8:16 AM

                             XXXIII

Then to the rolling Heav'n itself I cried,

Asking, "What Lamp had Destiny to guide

"Her Little Children stumbling in the Dark?"

And - " A blind Understanding!" Heav'n replied.

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anonymous  May 24, 2007 4:29 AM

XXXIV

Then to this earthen Bowl did I adjourn

My Lip the secret Well of Life to learn:

And Lip to Lip it murmur'd -- "While you live,

Drink! -- for once dead you never shall return."

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anonymous  May 24, 2007 4:32 AM

XXXV

I think the Vessel, that with fugitive

Articulation answer'd, once did live,

And merry-make; and the cold Lip I kiss'd

How many Kisses might it take -- and give.

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anonymous  July 13, 2007 6:08 AM

XXXVI

For in the Market-place, one Dusk of Day,

I watch'd the Potter thumping his wet Clay:

And with its all obliterated Tongue

It murmur'd -- "Gently, Brother, gently, pray!"

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anonymous  July 13, 2007 6:09 AM

XXXVII

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

How Time is slipping underneath our Feet:

Unborn To-morrow and dead Yesterday,

Why fret about them if To-day be sweet!

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 September 01, 2007 7:31 AM

[ From Preface.

Oh, if my soul can fling his Dust aside,

And naked on the Air of Heav'n ride,

Is 't not a Shame, is 't not a Shame for Him

So long is this Clay Suburb to abide?

Or is that but a Tent. where rests anon

A Sultan to his Kingdom passing on,

And which the swarthy Chamberlain shall strike

Then when the Sultan rises to be gone?]

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