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Category: Omar Khayyám

Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.

Life, Happy, Be Happy

The moving finger writes, and having written moves on. Nor all thy piety nor all thy wit, can cancel half a line of it.

Moving, Finger, Line

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.

Men, Desert, Face

Tomorrow! – Why tomorrow I may be Myself with yesterday’s sev’n thousand years.

The bird of time has but a little way To flutter – and the bird is on the wing.

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?

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.”

The thoughtful Soul to Solitude retires.

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.

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.

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.

All this of Pot and Potter – Tell me then Who is the Potter pray and who the Pot?