'The Rubaiyat Of Omar Khayyam Of Naishapur' by Edward Fitzgerald
AI and Tech Aggregator
Download Mp3s Free
Tears of the Kingdom Roleplay
Best Free University Courses Online
TOTK Roleplay
1
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.
2
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."
3
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."
4
Now the New Year reviving old Desires,
The thoughtful Soul to Solitude retires,
Where the WHITE HAND OF MOSES on the Bough
Puts out, and Jesus from the Ground suspires.
5
Iram indeed is gone with all its Rose,
And Jamshyd's Sev'n-ringed Cup where no one knows;
But still the Vine her ancient Ruby yields,
And still a Garden by the Water blows.
6
And David's Lips are lockt; but in divine
High piping Pehlevi, with "Wine! Wine! Wine!
Red Wine!"—the Nightingale cries to the Rose
That yellow Cheek of hers t'incarnadine.
7
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.
8
And look—a thousand Blossoms with the Day
Woke—and a thousand scattered into Clay:
And this first Summer Month that brings the Rose
Shall take Jamshyd and Kaikobad away.
9
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.
10
With me along some Strip of Herbage strown
That just divides the desert from the sown,
Where name of Slave and Sultan scarce is known,
And pity Sultan Mahmud on his Throne.
11
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.
12
"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!
13
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."
14
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.
15
And those who husbanded the Golden Grain,
And those who flung it to the Winds like Rain,
Alike to no such aureate Earth are turned
As, buried once, Men want dug up again.
16
Think, in this battered Caravanserai
Whose Doorways are alternate Night and Day,
How Sultan after Sultan with his Pomp
Abode his Hour or two, and went his way.
17
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.
18
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.
19
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!
20
Ah, my Beloved, fill the Cup that clears
TODAY of past Regrets and future Fears—
Tomorrow?—Why, Tomorrow I may be
Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n Thousand Years.
21
Lo! some we loved, the loveliest and 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.
22
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?
23
Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,
Before we too into the Dust descend;
Dust into Dust, and under Dust, to lie,
Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and—sans End!
24
Alike for those who for TODAY prepare,
And those that after a TOMORROW stare,
A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries
"Fools! your Reward is neither Here nor There!"
25
Why, all the Saints and Sages who discussed
Of the Two Worlds so learnedly, are thrust
Like foolish Prophets forth; their Words to Scorn
Are scattered, and their Mouth's are stopt with Dust.
26
Oh, come with old Khayyam, and leave the Wise
To talk; one thing is certain, that Life flies;
One thing is certain, and the Rest is Lies;
The Flower that once has blown for ever dies.
27
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.
28
With them the Seed of Wisdom did I sow,
And with my own hand laboured it to grow:
And this was all the Harvest that I reaped—
"I came like Water, and like Wind I go."
29
Into this Universe, and why not knowing,
Nor whence, like Water willy-nilly flowing:
And out of it, as Wind along the Waste,
I know not whither, willy-nilly blowing.
30
What, without asking, hither hurried whence?
And, without asking, whither hurried hence!
Another and another Cup to drown
The Memory of this Impertinence!
31
Up from Earth's Centre through the Seventh Gate
I rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate,
And many Knots unravelled by the Road;
But not the Knot of Human Death and Fate.
32
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.
33
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.
34
Then to this earthen Bowl did I adjourn
My Lip the secret Well of Life to learn:
And Lip to Lip it murmured—"While you live
Drink!—for once dead you never shall return."
35
I think the Vessel, that with fugitive
Articulation answered, once did live,
And merry-make; and the cold Lip I kissed
How many Kisses might it take—and give!
36
For in the Market-place, one Dusk of Day,
I watched the Potter thumping his wet Clay:
And with its all obliterated Tongue
It murmured—"Gently, Brother, gently, pray!"
37
Ah, fill the Cup:—what boots it to repeat
How Time is slipping underneath our Feet:
Unborn TOMORROW, and dead YESTERDAY,
Why fret about them if TODAY be sweet!
38
One Moment in Annihilation's Waste,
One Moment, of the Well of Life to taste—
The stars are setting and the Caravan
Starts for the Dawn of Nothing—Oh, make haste!
39
How long, how long, in infinite Pursuit
Of This and That endeavour and dispute?
Better be merry with the fruitful Grape
Than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit.
40
You know, my Friends, how long since in my House
For a new Marriage I did make Carouse:
Divorced old barren Reason from my Bed,
And took the Daughter of the Vine to Spouse.
41
For "IS" and "IS-NOT" though with Rule and Line,
And "UP-AND-DOWN" without, I could define,
I yet in all I only cared to know,
Was never deep in anything but—Wine.
42
And lately, by the Tavern Door agape,
Came stealing through the Dusk an Angel Shape
Bearing a Vessel on his Shoulder; and
He bid me taste of it; and 'twas—the Grape!
43
The Grape that can with Logic absolute
The Two-and-Seventy jarring Sects confute:
The subtle Alchemist that in a Thrice
Life's leaden Metal into Gold transmute.
44
The mighty Mahmud, the victorious Lord,
That all the misbelieving and black Horde
Of Fears and Sorrows that infest the Soul
Scatters and slays with his enchanted Sword.
45
But leave the Wise to wrangle, and with me
The Quarrel of the Universe let be:
And, in some corner of the Hubbub coucht,
Make Game of that which makes as much of Thee.
46
For in and out, above, about, below,
'Tis nothing but a Magic Shadow-show,
Played in a Box whose Candle is the Sun,
Round which we Phantom Figures come and go.
47
And if the Wine you drink, the Lip you press,
End in the Nothing all Things end in—Yes—
Then fancy while Thou art, Thou art but what
Thou shalt be—Nothing—Thou shalt not be less.
48
While the Rose blows along the River Brink,
With old Khayyam the Ruby Vintage drink:
And when the Angel with his darker Draught
Draws up to thee—take that, and do not shrink.
49
'Tis all a Chequer-board of Nights and Days
Where Destiny with Men for Pieces plays:
Hither and thither moves, and mates, and slays,
And one by one back in the Closet lays.
50
The Ball no Question makes of Ayes and Noes,
But Right or Left as strikes the Player goes;
And He that tossed Thee down into the Field,
He knows about it all—He knows—HE knows!
51
The moving finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.
52
And that inverted Bowl we call The Sky,
Whereunder crawling coopt we live and die,
Lift not thy hands to It for help—for It
Rolls impotently on as Thou or I.
53
With Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man's knead,
And then of the Last Harvest sowed the Seed:
Yea, the first Morning of Creation wrote
What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read.
54
I tell Thee this—When, starting from the Goal,
Over the shoulders of the flaming Foal
Of Heav'n Parwin and Mushtara they flung,
In my predestined Plot of Dust and Soul.
55
The Vine had struck a Fibre; which about
If clings my being—let the Sufi flout;
Of my Base Metal may be filed a Key,
That shall unlock the Door he howls without.
56
And this I know: whether the one True Light,
Kindle to Love, or Wrath, consume me quite,
One Glimpse of It within the Tavern caught
Better than in the Temple lost outright.
57
Oh Thou, who didst with Pitfall and with Gin
Beset the Road I was to wander in,
Thou wilt not with Predestination round
Enmesh me, and impute my Fall to Sin?
58
Oh Thou, who Man of baser Earth didst make,
And who with Eden didst devise the Snake;
For all the Sin wherewith the Face of Man
Is blackened, Man's Forgiveness give—and take!
Kuza-Nama
59
Listen again. One Evening at the Close
Of Ramazan, ere the better Moon arose,
In that old Potter's Shop I stood alone
With the clay Population round in Rows.
60
And, strange to tell, among the Earthen Lot
Some could articulate, while others not:
And suddenly one more impatient cried—
"Who is the Potter, pray, and who the Pot?"
61
Then said another—"Surely not in vain
My Substance from the common Earth was ta'en,
That He who subtly wrought me into Shape
Should stamp me back to common Earth again."
62
Another said—"Why, ne'er a peevish Boy,
Would break the Bowl from which he drank in Joy;
Shall He that made the Vessel in pure Love
And Fancy, in an after Rage destroy!"
63
None answered this; but after Silence spake
A Vessel of a more ungainly Make:
"They sneer at me for leaning all awry;
What! did the Hand then of the Potter shake?"
64
Said one—"Folks of a surly Tapster tell,
And daub his Visage with the Smoke of Hell;
They talk of some strict Testing of us—Pish!
He's a Good Fellow, and 'twill all be well."
65
Then said another, with a long-drawn Sigh,
"My Clay with long oblivion is gone dry:
But, fill me with the old familiar Juice,
Methinks I might recover by-and-bye!"
66
So while the Vessels one by one were speaking,
One spied the little Crescent all were seeking:
And then they jogged each other, "Brother! Brother!
Hark to the Potter's Shoulder-knot a-creaking!"
67
Ah, with the Grape my fading Life provide,
And wash my Body whence the Life has died,
And in a Windingsheet of Vine-leaf wrapt,
So bury me by some sweet Garden-side.
68
That ev'n my buried Ashes such a Snare
Of Perfume shall fling up into the Air,
As not a True Believer passing by
But shall be overtaken unaware.
69
Indeed the Idols I have loved so long
Have done my Credit in Men's Eye much wrong:
Have drowned my Honour in a shallow Cup,
And sold my Reputation for a Song.
70
Indeed, indeed, Repentance oft before
I swore—but was I sober when I swore?
And then and then came Spring, and Rose-in-hand
My threadbare Penitence apieces tore.
71
And much as Wine has played the Infidel,
And robbed me of my Robe of Honour—well,
I often wonder what the Vintners buy
One half so precious as the Goods they sell.
72
Alas, that Spring should vanish with the Rose!
That Youth's sweet-scented Manuscript should close!
The Nightingale that in the Branches sang,
Ah, whence, and whither flown again, who knows!
73
Ah Love! could thou and I with Fate conspire
To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,
Would not we shatter it to bits—and then
Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!
74
Ah, Moon of my Delight who know'st know wane,
The Moon of Heav'n is rising once again:
How oft hereafter rising shall she look
Through this same Garden after me—in vain!
75
And when Thyself with shining Foot shall pass
Among the Guests Star-scattered on the Grass,
And in thy joyous Errand reach the Spot
Where I made one—turn down an empty Glass!
Taman Shud
Editor 1 Interpretation
The Rubaiyat Of Omar Khayyam Of Naishapur: A Timeless Masterpiece
As I sit down to write about The Rubaiyat Of Omar Khayyam Of Naishapur, I can't help but feel a sense of awe for this timeless masterpiece. Written by Edward Fitzgerald in the 19th century, this poem has stood the test of time and continues to captivate readers with its profound musings on life, love, and mortality.
But what makes The Rubaiyat Of Omar Khayyam Of Naishapur so special? Is it the beautiful imagery that transports us to a world of lush gardens and flowing rivers? Is it the universal themes that resonate with us even today? Or is it the sheer brilliance of Omar Khayyam, the celebrated Persian poet and philosopher, whose words have inspired generations?
Perhaps it is all of these things and more. In this literary criticism and interpretation, I will delve deeper into the various aspects of this poem and explore why it has become a classic in every sense of the word.
Background and Context
Before we dive into the poem itself, let's take a moment to understand the background and context in which it was written. Omar Khayyam was a Persian poet, mathematician, and philosopher who lived in the 11th and 12th centuries. He was known for his scientific achievements and his philosophical musings, which were often expressed in the form of quatrains or rubaiyat.
Fast forward to the 19th century, when Edward Fitzgerald, an English poet and writer, stumbled upon a manuscript containing some of Omar Khayyam's quatrains. He was struck by the beauty and wisdom of these poems and decided to translate them into English. The result was The Rubaiyat Of Omar Khayyam Of Naishapur, a collection of 101 quatrains that has since become one of the most celebrated works of English literature.
Themes and Imagery
At the heart of The Rubaiyat Of Omar Khayyam Of Naishapur are the themes of love, mortality, and the fleeting nature of life. These themes are woven throughout the poem, and are expressed through the use of vivid imagery and metaphors.
One of the most striking aspects of the poem is its imagery. Fitzgerald's translation is filled with lush gardens, flowing rivers, and sparkling wine, all of which serve to create a sense of idyllic beauty. But beneath this beauty lies a sense of melancholy, as the speaker reflects on the transience of life and the inevitability of death.
Consider the following lines:
"The Bird of Time has but a little way To flutter—and the Bird is on the Wing."
Here, the speaker is referring to the fleeting nature of time, which is often compared to a bird in flight. The image of the bird serves to highlight the ephemerality of life, and the inevitability of our own mortality.
Another recurring image in the poem is that of the wine goblet. Wine is often used as a metaphor for the pleasures of life, and the goblet itself represents the vessel that contains these pleasures. But just as the wine is consumed and the goblet emptied, so too is life fleeting and impermanent.
Consider the following lines:
"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!"
Here, the speaker is referring to the fragility of life, as represented by the delicate herb that grows beside the river. The herb is a reminder that even the most beautiful things in life are temporary, and that we should cherish them while they last.
Tone and Style
The tone of The Rubaiyat Of Omar Khayyam Of Naishapur is one of melancholy and contemplation. The speaker reflects on the transience of life and the inevitability of death, and his musings are often tinged with a sense of sadness and resignation.
At the same time, there is also a sense of acceptance and even celebration of life's impermanence. The speaker seems to be urging us to live in the moment and enjoy the pleasures of life while we can, rather than dwelling on the inevitability of our own mortality.
The style of the poem is characterized by its use of simple language and straightforward syntax. Fitzgerald's translation is faithful to the original Persian, and he uses a plain, unadorned style that allows the beauty of the imagery and the wisdom of the words to shine through.
Interpretation and Significance
The Rubaiyat Of Omar Khayyam Of Naishapur is a poem that speaks to us on many levels. On one level, it is a celebration of life's fleeting pleasures, and a reminder that we should enjoy them while we can. On another level, it is a meditation on the transience of life and the inevitability of death.
But perhaps most importantly, The Rubaiyat Of Omar Khayyam Of Naishapur is a timeless masterpiece that speaks to the human condition. It reminds us of our own mortality and our place in the world, and it urges us to embrace life and all its fleeting pleasures.
In this sense, the poem has transcended its time and place, and has become a work of universal significance. Its insights into the human condition are as relevant today as they were when they were first written, and its message of acceptance and celebration of life continues to inspire readers around the world.
Conclusion
In conclusion, The Rubaiyat Of Omar Khayyam Of Naishapur is a timeless masterpiece that continues to captivate readers with its profound insights and beautiful imagery. Edward Fitzgerald's translation has brought this work to a wider audience, and has ensured its place as one of the most celebrated works of English literature.
At its heart, The Rubaiyat Of Omar Khayyam Of Naishapur is a meditation on the transience of life and the inevitability of death. But it is also a celebration of life's fleeting pleasures, and a reminder to live in the moment and embrace all that life has to offer.
As I finish writing this literary criticism and interpretation, I am struck once again by the sheer brilliance of this poem. Its words and imagery have touched countless hearts and minds over the centuries, and its message of acceptance and celebration of life continues to inspire us today. Truly, The Rubaiyat Of Omar Khayyam Of Naishapur is a timeless masterpiece that will continue to resonate with readers for generations to come.
Editor 2 Analysis and Explanation
The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam of Naishapur is a classic poem that has stood the test of time. Written by Edward Fitzgerald, this poem is a masterpiece that has captured the hearts of many readers over the years. The poem is a collection of quatrains, each containing four lines, and it is a reflection on life, love, and the human condition. In this analysis, we will explore the themes, imagery, and language used in the poem to understand its significance and impact.
The poem begins with a reflection on the transience of life. The first quatrain reads, "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." This quatrain sets the tone for the rest of the poem, as it speaks to the fleeting nature of life. The image of morning in the bowl of night is a powerful one, as it suggests that life is but a brief moment in the grand scheme of things. The hunter of the east catching the sultan's turret in a noose of light is a metaphor for the passing of time, as the light represents the passing of day into night.
The theme of transience is further explored in the second quatrain, which reads, "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.'" This quatrain speaks to the idea that life is short, and we should make the most of it while we can. The voice within the tavern is a metaphor for the voice of life itself, urging us to live fully and enjoy every moment.
The theme of love is also a prominent one in the poem. The third quatrain reads, "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.'" This quatrain speaks to the idea that love is fleeting, and we should seize the opportunity to express our love while we can. The image of the cock crowing is a powerful one, as it suggests that time is running out.
The fourth quatrain speaks to the idea that love is a powerful force that can overcome even death. It reads, "Now the New Year reviving old Desires, / The thoughtful Soul to Solitude retires, / Where the White Hand Of Moses on the Bough / Puts out, and Jesus from the Ground suspires." This quatrain speaks to the idea that love is eternal, and even in death, it can continue to thrive. The image of the white hand of Moses and Jesus rising from the ground is a metaphor for the power of love to overcome even death.
The imagery used in the poem is rich and evocative. The fifth quatrain reads, "Iram indeed is gone with all its Rose, / And Jamshyd's Sev'n-ring'd Cup where no one knows; / But still a Ruby kindles in the Vine, / And many a Garden by the Water blows." This quatrain speaks to the idea that even though great civilizations and empires may fall, the beauty of life continues to thrive. The image of the ruby kindling in the vine is a metaphor for the beauty of life that continues to shine even in the darkest of times.
The language used in the poem is also noteworthy. The use of metaphors and imagery creates a rich and evocative tapestry that draws the reader in. The use of repetition, such as in the phrase "Awake, my Little ones, and fill the Cup," creates a sense of urgency and importance. The use of rhyme and rhythm also adds to the beauty of the poem, making it a joy to read aloud.
In conclusion, The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam of Naishapur is a classic poem that speaks to the human condition. It explores the themes of transience, love, and the beauty of life, using rich imagery and language to create a powerful and evocative work of art. The poem has stood the test of time, and its message continues to resonate with readers today. It is a true masterpiece of poetry, and a testament to the power of the written word.
Editor Recommended Sites
Best Adventure Games - Highest Rated Adventure Games - Top Adventure Games: Highest rated adventure game reviewsBlockchain Remote Job Board - Block Chain Remote Jobs & Remote Crypto Jobs: The latest remote smart contract job postings
Rust Crates - Best rust crates by topic & Highest rated rust crates: Find the best rust crates, with example code to get started
Cloud Data Fabric - Interconnect all data sources & Cloud Data Graph Reasoning:
Tactical Roleplaying Games: Find more tactical roleplaying games like final fantasy tactics, wakfu, ffbe wotv
Recommended Similar Analysis
The Premature Burial by Edgar Allen Poe analysisLove 's Last Adieu by George Gordon, Lord Byron analysis
Apparently with no surprise by Emily Dickinson analysis
TO DAFFADILS by Robert Herrick analysis
Stanzas from the Grande Chartreuse by Matthew Arnold analysis
The Young British Soldier by Rudyard Kipling analysis
Holy Sonnet XVII: Since She Whom I Loved by John Donne analysis
A Certain Lady by Dorothy Parker analysis
Sonnet 129: Th' expense of spirit in a waste of shame by William Shakespeare analysis
"I am the only being whose doom..." by Emily Jane Brontë analysis