THE RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM
From a Literal Prose Translation by Edward Heron-Allen
Done into verse
by
Arthur B Talbot
* * *

149.

Give me a scroll of verse, a little wine,
With half a loaf to fill thy needs and mine,
And with the desert sand our resting place,
For ne'er a Sultan's kingdom would we pine.

150.

Live happily, place not in grief thy trust,
Amidst injustice show that thou art just;
If all the world must come to nothingness,
Be free, and deem thyself already dust.

151.

Where'er on earth my wand'ring gaze I place,
A garden lav'd by Kausar's stream I trace;
Heaven in the desert, Hell hath disappear'd,
And Paradise is in her Angel face.

152.

Be happy! yesterday thy joy or pain
Was fix'd, and yesterday may none regain;
Live happy! for yestr'een, unsought, the Fates
What thou wilt do to-morrow did ordain.

153.

Pour out this pure red wine of tulip hue,
And with the jar's clear blood the cup imbue.
Beside the wine-cup, there is not to-day
One friend of mine with heart so warm and true.

154.

Heaven in my ear this secret did confess,
"From me all Fate's decrees thou may'st possess."
Were mine the hand that made myself revolve,
I would have sav'd myself much giddiness.

155.

Let Fortune but provide me bread of wheat,
A gourd of wine a bone of mutton sweet,
Then in the desert if we twain might sit,
Joys such as ours no Sultan could defeat.

156.

Whene'er thy hand may reach two cups of wine,
Let wine's own light in each assembly shine;
For He who made the world cares less than naught
For thy moustaches, or for beards like mine.

157.

Had I the power, I ne'er had borne Life's thrall,
Nor willingly would lie beneath the Pall
Far better, were it not? if in this world
I ne'er had come, or gone, or liv'd at all.

158.

Ramazán's end draws near, Shawwál doth break,
The time with flowers and joy to merry-make;
Now porters with their loads stand back to back
Laden with wine. - Up, bottles, and awake!