Omar Khayyam

When I am sober, I don’t feel lighthearted; but when I’m drunk my reason is defective. There is a state  between being tipsy and clearheaded. I’m a slave to that state because that is life. Translated by Juan Cole from Whinfield 41

If a stranger proves faithful, I adopt him into the family. But if a relative sins, I take a dim view of him. If poison proves helpful, it is actually an antidote, and if an antidote attacks me, it is really a toxic sting. Translated by Juan Cole from Whinfield 39

I can’t reveal the mystery to either saint or sinner; I can’t state at length what I’ve said curtly; I achieve an altered state that I can’t explain; I have a secret that I cannot share. Translated by Juan Cole from Whinfield 36.

Pagan temples and mosques are all houses of worship. Ringing church bells are hymns of worship. The sacred thread of the Parsee, the synagogue, the rosary and the crucifix– in reality, all are tokens of servitude to God. Translated by Juan Cole from Whinfield 34.

Night and day preceded you and me. The vault of the sky revolved upon some work. Be careful to tread lightly  on the earth– you’re walking on people who used to be someone’s lover. Translated by Juan Cole from Whinfield 33.

Don’t try every door  because of some bauble; you just have to accept the good and bad of your time; a shake of the cup and a toss of the dice– whatever comes up, you’ll just have to play it. Translated by Juan Cole from Whinfield 31 .

Get up and come here for the sake of my heart, and lend your beauty  to solving my problem. Bring an earthenware cup full of wine for us to drink, –quick before we’re clay  in the ground that they quarry  to make cups. translated by Juan Cole from Whinfield 5

Your hand can seize today, but not tomorrow; and thoughts of your tomorrow are nothing but desire. Don’t waste this breath, if your heart isn’t crazy, since ‘the rest of your life’ won’t last forever. trans. Juan Cole from Whinfield 30

79 Mix together wine, song and heavenly lover if you can, and sit on the bank  of a purling stream. Don’t look for anything better, don’t speak of a forgotten hell; for, really,  there is no other heaven than this. trans. Juan Cole