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| RUBAIYAT 1-50 |
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| 1 Blooming garden, sweetheart and with wine filled cup This is my paradise, the most perfect setup And since none has yet seen Paradise that's in Heaven Let's enjoy earthly one, til our time is up! 2 An illustrious man is called "arrogant snob". A meek saint - "hypocrite in a pauper's robe". It is better to live as a total unknown, and to die knowing none of this slanderous mob. 3 My life isn't just reading a book after book Praised the Lord be for all that good wine I took And if your sober mind is too strict a teacher Pay no heed -I'll teach him where for wisdom to look. 4 Blessed wine! Replace both Love and Koran! Blessed tavern! Embrace your prodigal son. I shall drink so much that when I stumble out "Where is this barrel going?" would ask everyone. 5 Simpletons pay respect as to a sage to me. God's my witness: I am not what they think of me. Neither life nor myself know I any better Than these fools who forever keep on reading me. 6 Into knowing things all my efforts were put The sublime truth learned, and of all evil root Knots of all contradictions I've undone in this world All but the Knot of Death - the unyielding old brute. 7 Brutal force, spite and vengeance rule world that is What on earth do you know more certain than this? Happy men, where are they in the embittered world? Fingers on your hands you can count them with. 8 Contemplating existence is all I have done Nothing new left for me to learn under the sun What I know for sure is that I know nothing That's the last truth my struggle for wisdom has won. 9 From the best school - this World one can't know when Graduation takes place: Teacher never gives "ten". Though hairs are gray I'm still Life's apprentice Not admitted to ranks of the real craftsmen. 10 Hard is my life, I keep messing up things Stricken by poverty, racked by mood swings Yet, though fate brings me nothing but troubles Even for that Allah's praise Khayyam sings. 11 At the top of his lungs every man screams: "It's me!" In the purse jingle shrilly gold coins: "It's me!" But the moment one puts his affairs in order On the braggart's door Death knocks already: "It's me!" 12 Heaven's no more real than Hell, oh my heart! There is no return from the grave, oh my heart! All your hopes are in vain, oh heart of mine! So are your fears, just be brave, oh my heart! 13 One who follows reason is milking a bull. Acting wisely too often is not the best rule. In these times one should profit by playing a fool For to be bright today is to face ridicule. 14 Princes used to parade here in silk and brocade Heralds' comings and goings ne'er seemed to abate Where are they ? Through the ruins of an empty castle Orphaned cuckoo's incessant "cu-ckoo" wouldn't fade. 15 Raven perched on the city's old crumbling wall holds a scull in his talons, repeats a sad call: "Oh, great king! Where's your troops trumpets' triumphant sound, your victories bells' endless clamorous toll?" 16 See this diligent sculptor at work with his clay As if making great art, busy day after day? Look again, more closely... Oh, what a horror! Clay is but human flesh, he's a madman at play. 17 In the Khurasan's fields where the lush grass wind swings Poppies grow profusely from blood of the kings, upwards daises are pushed by the maiden's remains from a cheek's charming mole a shy violet springs. 18 I am tired of being sick, helpless and poor Of the misery that seems to have no cure Give me, Lord, a new life, if it is in your power For the old one I can't any longer endure. 19 In the book of my life a few pages are left From its spring, from its joy only sadness is left Youth, a bird, her arrival I cannot remember Neither when, with no warning, the light-winged had left. 20 From the godless to God - no more than a flash. From the start to the end - no more than a flash. Savor each of these precious flashes, for Life is, no matter how long or how short, but a flash. 21 Someone wise whispers softly to me in a dream: "Not a wish can come true, as you sleep, not a whim. Wake up now, Khayyam! You'll be sleeping forever When the lights of your life death will finally dim." 22 How long, clever man, you would be ruled by reason? Life is short, death is certain, grave's the gateless prison. From your flesh, turned to clay, jugs and cups would be made, Drink, get used to it now, all's good in its season. 23 Never sober I've been, and on the Judgement Day to face God I will, drunken, be taken away. From the dawn to the dusk I kiss the glass of wine, with a slender-necked jug having my wicked way. 24 Cup of wine and sin, filled with blessing and curse Drink today, for tomorrow could even be worse. For some day the new moon on the Earth looking down Neither may find you, nor your fame, nor your verse. 25 "Will the water return", a fish asked a moor-hen, "that flowed under the bridge, and if it will, then when?" Said the moor-hen to her, "When you're well done and ready all your questions are answered by the frying pan." 26 Look not into the Future, the troubles await even those far-sighted who rule our fate. There are plenty Today to make one's heart contented, Just make sure not to have too much stuff on your plate. 27 The swift-footed, one by one, days come and gone. The sunsets, the sunrises, by turns come and gone. Let's, bartender, forget the sad past, the bright future. Bring me wine, at once, for the years come and gone. 28 What is in store for me? To guess would be in vain Of tomorrow thoughts only drive me insane. Drink, Khayyam! From this cup of Life spill not a drop! Less and less of them still on its bottom remain. 29 If there is a small room you may call your own, in our scoundrel time can live by bread alone, If you're neither a slave , nor a master, rejoice! None on this planet Earth sits on the higher throne. 30 Sober, I feel like a monk in a cave Drunk, like a madman, both foolish and brave Somewhere between being sober and drunken there is the Truth, of which I am a slave. 31 Were each neighboring city or state, all around, to be conquered and turned into the dusty mound, it wouldn't make an immortal of you, oh, great king. Your fate's still the same, six feet deep in the ground 32 There are no men left, who deserve my respect, only wine gives pleasure I've come to expect. I and my jug of wine won't be disconnected It's the only thing with which I truly connect. 33 The self-righteous priest would berate the drunk whore: "Drinking and selling flesh all of us should abhor!" "I would freely admit", the whore said, "my transgressions, but are you, sir, what you want to be taken for?" 34 Not of city-destroyers, who burn, slash, and slay Only souls of the drunkards fly freely away. One should drink everyday: Monday, Tuesday and Sunday, Thursday, Friday, and Wednesday, and more Saturday. 35 From the lilac-blue sky on the fields lush and green Fall, like snow, the petals of the white jasmine. I fill a lily-cup with the red-rose wine Purifying, its flame burns my soul within. 36 If to cause hurt and fear is your only motive on The Last Judgement Day don't hope for reprieve. God, perhaps, will forgive them who've sinned by omission But the sheer wickedness He, for sure, won't forgive. 37 After you once more sinned, fear of Hell overcome and to sin no more don't promise, Khayyam. For to show the World His boundless mercy God needs those who sin - every bum, every scum. 38 In this transient world, whose essence is dust, avoid being a captive of things that can't last. What is real is Spirit, essentially changeless, Into His omnipresence put all your trust. 39 In this dangerous world do not play a fool One relying on others - a sight pitiful. And if someone declares: "I'm your friend!", look again The false friends are the worst, they're the Devil's tool. 40 Those seeking escape in a fantasy flight in the roar of day, in the stillness of night on the edge of abyss are, not living but dreaming Only God never sleeps who's the Truth and the Light. 41 Death does not frighten me, and my fate I blame not Consolation in "life after death" never sought. Soul eternal I've got just for a little while, and will give back without a second thought. 42 Why the powerful God, the creator of men, hasn't made them immortal, was not this His plan? For if man is God's the most perfect creation why is he but a flesh, and whose fault is it then? 43 After drinking too much if I am off my feet this is just serving God, nothing more is to it. If God made me a drunkard, can I disobey Him? It is God's expectations that I try to meet. 44 Whole Koran not too many are willing and able to read. Only those who thirsted for Truth from the cradle will read. But the words of the Prophet, inscribed on a beautiful goblet, more than once, one who drinks himself under the table shall read. 45 "What is man?"- you have asked yourself many times If God's image you see, do not trust your eyes. At birth God pulls man from the abyss for a moment For eternity throws him back when he dies. 46 The pure spirit that in the impure vessel's sealed freed by death flies straight to the Elysian Fields. There you will be at home, here flesh is your prison At the end only shame life of body shall yield. 47 Just have mercy on me, God, free me from the chains of the righteous life, for I am not a saint. I'm a rascal if you with the rascals put up, and insane I am if you spare the insane. 48 Be happy! Unhappy ones lose their minds. The stars are eternal, the darkness is blind. To know that man, after all, turns to dust How can one get used to the thought so unkind? 49 Only with the good men one should try friends to make, Of the bad ones beware, never give them a break. If a scoundrel hands you gold - throw it out, if an honest man offer you poison - take! 50 In this world of scoundrels, hucksters and fools put a lock on your mouth, fill the ears with wool, tightly close the eyes - think about preserving your eyes, ears and mouth as the first safety rule. |
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