poetry

For a hand like mine,  which always grips a wine glass, it would be a shame  to put scripture or a rosary in it. You’re a dry ascetic,  and I’m a soused rascal,  but don’t worry– I’m too well watered to burn in hell. Translated by Juan Cole from Omar Khayyam’s Rubaiyat, [pdf] Whinfield 170

In this life, all those who have  half a piece of bread and a resting place  in which to nest; who are neither servants nor masters of others– let them rejoice, for their world is a happy one. Translated by Juan Cole from Omar Khayyam’s Rubaiyat, [pdf] Whinfield 168

The elite and lofty crowd who hold exalted office are disgusted at the life of  grief and bother that they suffer. But when they consider the ones who, unlike them, are not the prisoners of high ambition– the amazing thing is that they do not even reckon them as human. Translated by Juan Cole from […]

Now that nothing is left of good times but the name; and save for wine itself, not a single  old drinking buddy is around any more; don’t decline the joy of  the vintage you’re offered, since today your hand is empty save for the glass. Translated by Juan Cole from Omar Khayyam’s Rubaiyat, [pdf] Whinfield 149

  I was disturbed that he brought me into being, and nothing has grown  through my life like my bewilderment at it. We’re forced to depart, and don’t even know what the point is  of all this coming  and going and being. Translated by Juan Cole from Omar Khayyam’s Rubaiyat, [pdf] Whinfield 145

Those religious zealots are all jackasses, who’re carrying a burden  of deceit.  And  most amazing of all, under cover  of their self-denial they sell their religion! They are worse than  unbelievers any day. Translated by Juan Cole from Omar Khayyam’s Rubaiyat, [pdf] Whinfield 143

Don’t fall for this world’s  enticements, you amateurs! You know all about its tricks. Don’t throw your precious lives  to the wind. Get yourself a lover and open a bottle of wine. Translated by Juan Cole from Omar Khayyam’s Rubaiyat, [pdf] Whinfield 138

The one who made the heavens and the earth has wounded the heart  of many a mourner; he has put many ruby lips and perfumed locks six feet beneath the ground. Translated by Juan Cole from Omar Khayyam’s Rubaiyat, [pdf] Whinfield 137

It is amazing how the caravan of life goes by. Take a deep breath, and let it pass cheerfully. Barkeep, why be sad  about tomorrow’s grief? Pick up a wine glass, before the night has fled. Translated by Juan Cole from Omar Khayyam’s Rubaiyat, [pdf] Whinfield 136