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Persian
-
Mathematician
,
Poet
&
Astronomer
May 18, 1048
Persian
-
Mathematician
,
Poet
&
Astronomer
May 18, 1048
Tomorrow! - Why tomorrow I may be Myself with yesterday's sev'n thousand years.
Omar Khayyám
The bird of time has but a little way To flutter - and the bird is on the wing.
Omar Khayyám
Yet Ah that Spring should vanish with the Rose. That Youth's sweetscented manuscript should close! The Nightingale that in the branches sang Ah whence and whither flown again who knows?
Omar Khayyám
I sent my Soul through the Invisible Some letter of that After-life to spell And by and by my Soul returned to me And answered "I Myself am Heav'n and Hell."
Omar Khayyám
The thoughtful Soul to Solitude retires.
Omar Khayyám
And that inverted Bowl they call the Sky Whereunder crawling coop'd we live and die Lift not your hands to it for help - for it As impotently moves as you or I.
Omar Khayyám
0 thou who didst with pitfall and with gin Beset the road I was to wander in Thou wilt not with predestin'd evil round Enmesh and then impute my fall to sin.
Omar Khayyám
You know my friends with what a brave carouse I made a second marriage in my house Divorced old barren reason from my bed And took the daughter of the vine to spouse.
Omar Khayyám
All this of Pot and Potter - Tell me then Who is the Potter pray and who the Pot?
Omar Khayyám
A book of Verses underneath the Bough A Jug of Wine a Loaf of Bread - and Thou Beside me singing in the Wilderness - Oh Wilderness were Paradise enow!
Omar Khayyám
There was the door to which I found no key There was the veil through which 1 might not see.
Omar Khayyám
You know my friends with what a brave carouse I made a second marriage in my house Divorced old barren reason from my bed And took the daughter of the vine to spouse.
Omar Khayyám
All this of Pot and Potter - Tell me then Who is the Potter pray and who the Pot?
Omar Khayyám
A book of Verses underneath the Bough A Jug of Wine a Loaf of Bread - and Thou Beside me singing in the Wilderness - Oh Wilderness were Paradise enow!
Omar Khayyám
There was the door to which I found no key There was the veil through which 1 might not see.
Omar Khayyám
Ah take the Cash and let the Credit go Nor heed the rumble of a distant Drum!
Omar Khayyám
And this I know whether the one True Light Kindle to Love or Wrath consume me quite One flash of it within the Tavern caught Better than in the temple lost outright.
Omar Khayyám
Ah Love! could you and I with him conspire To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire Would we not shatter it to bits - and then Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire?
Omar Khayyám
Heav'n but the Vision of fulfill'd Desire And Hell the Shadow from a Soul on fire.
Omar Khayyám
Dust into dust and under dust to lie Sans wine sans song sans singer and - sans end.
Omar Khayyám
There was the Door to which I found no key There was the Veil through which I might not see.
Omar Khayyám
I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled That every Hyacinth the Garden wears Dropt in her Lap from some once lovely Head.
Omar Khayyám
One thing is certain and the rest is lies The Flower that once has blown for ever dies.
Omar Khayyám
Drink! for you know not whence you came nor why: Drink! for you know not why you go nor where.
Omar Khayyám
Ah love! could you and I with Him conspire To grasp this sorry scheme of things entire Would not we shatter it to bits - and then Re-mold it nearer to the heart's desire!
Omar Khayyám
Strange - is it not? - that of the myriads who Before us passed the door of Darkness through Not one returns to tell us of the road Which to discover we must travel too.
Omar Khayyám
Ah take the cash and let the credit go.
Omar Khayyám
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 where in I went.
Omar Khayyám
Whether at Naishápúr or Babylon, Whether the Cup with sweet or bitter run, The Wine of Life keeps oozing drop by drop, The Leaves of Life keep falling one by one.
Omar Khayyám
The Wine of Life keeps oozing drop by drop, The Leaves of Life keep falling one by one.
Omar Khayyám
Were it not Folly, Spider-like to spinThe Thread of present Life away to win-What? for ourselves, who know not if we shallBreathe out the very Breath we now breathe in!
Omar Khayyám
Where is an intimate friend who’ll hear the secret from me straight out– of what human beings have been from the moment they began? They are born of toil and molded from the clay of sorrow.They wander the world for a time, then set off.
Omar Khayyám
The mighty Mahmúd, Allah-breathing Lord,That all the misbelieving and black HordeOf Fears and Sorrows that infest the SoulScatters before him with his whirlwind Sword.
Omar Khayyám
Now the New Year reviving old Desires,The thoughtful Soul to Solitude retires.
Omar Khayyám
Oh threats of Hell and Hopes of Par
Omar Khayyám
My coming brought no profit to the sky,Nor does my going swell its glory;My two ears have never heard anyone that could say,Why I came here and why I will go away.
Omar Khayyám
It is a shame for anyoneto be well-known for righteousness.It is a great disgrace to feeldistress at the injustice of the turning of the wheels of fate.
Omar Khayyám
As far as you can avoid it, do not give grief to anyone. Never inflict your rage on another. If you hope for eternal rest, feel the pain yourself; but don’t hurt others.
Omar Khayyám
You’ve seen the world, and all you’ve seen is nothing; and everything, as well, that you have said and heard is nothing. You’ve sprinted everywhere between here and the horizon; it is nothing. And all the possessions you’ve treasured up at home are nothing.
Omar Khayyám
My tomb shall be in a spot where the north wind may scatter roses over it.
Omar Khayyám