one view of what Omar Khayyam might have looked llike

Omar-Khayyám (1048-1123) was a Persian mathematician who enjoyed drinking and writing fatalistic poetry. He is famous in the West for his “Rubiayat,’ or qutrains, but he was best known in his time as a mathematician and astronomer and for his nihilistism and hedonistic life.

Omar-Khayyám wrote: I sometimes think that never blows so red/ The Rise as where some buried Caesar bled.. “Rubaiyat of Mar Khayyam” was a popular book in the Victorian era. Produced by an American expatriate Elihu Vedder, it was filled with images of skulls, owls and lizards set to Omar verse.

Could this Cabinet become better with my entry?
Will this Cabinet shine more with my exit?
The ear would not hear from anyone
Why I entered this Cabinet and leave

Vanity of Regret (c. 1110)
Nothing in this world of ours
Flows as we would have it flow;
What avail, then, careful hours,
Thought and trouble, tears and woe?
Through the shrouded veil of earth,
Life's rich colors gleaming bright,
Though in truth of little worth,
Yet allure with meteor light.
Life is torture and suspense;
Thought is sorrow-drive it hence!
With no will of mine I came,
With no will depart the same.
[Source: Charles F. Horne, ed., “The Sacred Books and Early Literature of the East”, (New York: Parke, Austin, & Lipscomb, 1917), Vol. VIII: Medieval Persia, p. 15 (Translated by E. H. Whinfield]

“Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam: a Critical Edition” by Edward FitzGerald, edited by Christopher Decker. (Charlottesville : University Press of Virginia, 1997)

Websites and Resources: Islamic, Arabic and Persian Literature Islamic and Arabic Literature at Cornell University ; Internet Islamic History Sourcebook ;
Wikipedia article on Islamic Literature Wikipedia ; Wikipedia article on Arabic Literature Wikipedia ; Wikipedia article on Persian Literature Wikipedia ; Persian literature at Encyclopædia Britannica ; Persian Literature & Poetry at / ; Arabic Poetry ; Arabic Poetry from Princeton ; Thousand and One Nights ; 1001 Nights ; Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night, Burton, ; Islamic Stories

In Praise of Wine (c. 1100)by Omar Khayyan

Morn's first rays are glimmering,
From the skies the stars are creeping;
Rouse, for shame the goblet bring,
All too long thou liest sleeping:
Open those narcissus eyes,
Wake-be happy-and be wise!

Why, ungrateful man, repine,
When this cup is bright with wine?
All my life I've sought in vain,
Knowledge and content to gain;
All that Nature could unfold
Have I in her page unrolled;
All of glorious and grand
I have sought to understand.
'Twas in youth my early thought,
Riper years no wisdom brought,
Life is ebbing, sure though slow,
And I feel I nothing know.

Bring the bowl! at least in this
Dwells no shadowed distant bliss;
See! I clasp the cup whose power
Yields more wisdom in an hour
Than whole years of study give,
Vainly seeking how to live.
Wine dispenses into air
Selfish thoughts, and selfish care.
Dost thou know why wine I prize?
He who drinks all ill defies:
And can awhile throw off the thrall
Of self, the God we worship-all!
[Source: Charles F. Horne, ed., “The Sacred Books and Early Literature of the East”, (New York: Parke, Austin, & Lipscomb, 1917), Vol. VIII: Medieval Persia, p. 15 (Translated by E. H. Whinfield]

The Cup (c. 1110) by Omar Khayyan

Know'st thou whence the hues are drawn
Which the tulip's leaves adorn?
'Tis that blood has soaked the earth,
Where her beauties had their birth.

Omar Kayyam geometric solution to a cubic equation

Know'st thou why the violet's eyes
Gleam with dewy purple dyes?
'Tis that tears, for love untrue,
Bathed the banks where first she grew.

If no roses bloom for me,
Thorns my only flowers must be:
If no sun shine on my way,
Torches must provide my day.

Let me drink, as drink the wise:
Pardon for our weakness lies
In the cup—for Heaven well knew,
When I first to being sprung
I should love the rosy dew,

And its praise would oft be sung.
'Twere impiety to say
We would cast the cup away,
And be votaries no more,
Since it was ordained before.
[Source: Charles F. Horne, ed., “The Sacred Books and Early Literature of the East”, (New York: Parke, Austin, & Lipscomb, 1917), Vol. VIII: Medieval Persia, p. 15 (Translated by E. H. Whinfield]

Profession of Faith (c. 1120) by Omar Khayyan

Ye, who seek for pious fame,
And that light should gild your name,
Be this duty ne'er forgot—
Love your neighbor—harm him not.
To Thee, Great Spirit, I appeal,
Who can'st the gates of truth unseal;
I follow none, nor ask the way
Of men who go, like me, astray;
They perish, but Thou canst not die,
But liv'st to all eternity.
Such is vain man's uncertain state,
A little makes him base or great;
One hand shall hold the Qur’an's scroll,
The other raise the sparkling bowl—
One saves, and one condemns the soul.

Omar Khayyam's book on Algebra

The temple I frequent is high,
A turkish-vaulted dome—the sky,
That spans the world with majesty.
Not quite a Muslim is my creed,
Nor quite a Giaour; my faith indeed
May startle some who hear me say,
I'd give my pilgrim staff away,
And sell my turban, for an hour
Of music in a fair one's bower.
I'd sell the rosary for wine,
Though holy names around it twine.
And prayers the pious make so long
Are turned by me to joyous song;
Or, if a prayer I should repeat,
It is at my beloved's feet.

They blame me that my words are clear;
Because I am not what I appear;
Nor do my acts my words belie—
At least, I shun hypocrisy.
It happened that but yesterday
I marked a potter beating clay.
The earth spoke out— "Why dost thou strike?
Both thou and I are born alike;
Though some may sink and some may soar,
We all are earth, and nothing more."
[Source: Charles F. Horne, ed., “The Sacred Books and Early Literature of the East”, (New York: Parke, Austin, & Lipscomb, 1917), Vol. VIII: Medieval Persia, p. 15 (Translated by E. H. Whinfield]

Wisdom of the Supreme (c. 1120) by Omar Khayyan

All we see-above, around—
Is but built on fairy ground:
All we trust is empty shade
To deceive our reason made.
Tell me not of Paradise,
Or the beams of houris' eyes;
Who the truth of tales can tell,
Cunning priests invent so well?
He who leaves this mortal shore
Quits it to return no more.

another view of what Omar Khayyam might have looked like

In vast life's unbounded tide
They alone content may gain,
Who can good from ill divide,
Or in ignorance abide—
All between is restless pain.
Before thy prescience, power divine,
What is this idle sense of mine?
What all the learning of the schools?
What sages, priests, and pedants?—Fools!

The world is thine, from thee it rose,
By thee it ebbs, by thee it flows.
Hence, worldly lore! By whom is wisdom shown?
The Eternal knows, knows all, and He alone!
[Source: Charles F. Horne, ed., “The Sacred Books and Early Literature of the East”, (New York: Parke, Austin, & Lipscomb, 1917), Vol. VIII: Medieval Persia, p. 15 (Translated by E. H. Whinfield]

Rubiayat (c.1120) by Omar Khayyan

The Rubiayat Begins: I) Wake! For the Sun behind yon Eastern height Has chased the Session of the Stars from Night;
And to the field of Heav'n ascending, strikes The Sultan's Turret with a Shaft of Light.
II) Before the phantom of False morning died, Methought a Voice within the Tavern cried,
"When all the Temple is prepared within, Why lags the drowsy Worshipper outside?"
III) 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."
IV) 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.
[Source: Source. Harvard Classics series, 1909, translated by Edward FitzGerald]

V) Iram indeed is gone with all his Rose, And Jamshyd's Sev'n - ring'd Cup where no one knows;
But still a Ruby gushes from the Vine, And many a Garden by the Water blows.
VI) 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 sallow cheek of hers to incarnadine.
VII) Come, fill the Cup, and in the fire of Spring Your Winter - garment of Repentance fling:
The Bird of Time has but a little way To flutter - and the Bird is on the Wing.
VIII) Whether at Naishapur or Babylon, Whether the Cup with sweet or bitter run,
The Wine of Life keeps oozing drop by drop, The Leaves of Life keep falling one by one.

IX) Morning a thousand Roses brings, you say; Yes, but where leaves the Rose of Yesterday? And this first Summer month that brings the Rose Shall take Jamshyd and Kaikobad away.
X) Well, let it take them! What have we to do With Kaikobad the Great, or Kaikhosru?
Let Rustum cry "To Battle!" as he likes, Or Hatim Tai "To supper!" - heed not you.
XI) With me along the strip of Herbage strown That just divides the desert from the sown,
Where name of Slave and Sultan is forgot And Peace to Mahmud on his golden Throne!
XII) Here with a little Bread beneath the Bough, A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse - and Thou Beside me singing in the Wilderness Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!

XIII) Some for the Glories of This World; and some Sigh for the Prophet's Paradise to come; Ah, take the Cash, and let the Promise go, Nor heed the music of a distant Drum!
XIV) Were it not Folly, Spider - like to spin The Thread of present Life away to win
What? for ourselves, who know not if we shall Breathe out the very Breath we now breathe in!
XV) Look to the blowing Rose 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."
XVI) For those who husbanded the Golden grain, And those who flung it to the winds like Rain, Alike to no such aureate Earth are turn'd As, buried once, Men want dug up again.

XVII) 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 - was gone.
XVIII) Think, in this batter'd Caravanserai Whose Portals are alternate Night and Day,
How Sultan after Sultan with his Pomp Abode his destined Hour, and went his way.
XIX) 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, but cannot break his Sleep.
XX) The Palace that to Heav'n his pillars threw, And Kings the forehead on his threshold drew
I saw the solitary Ringdove there, And "Coo, coo, coo," she cried; and "Coo, coo, coo."

XXI) Ah, my Beloved, fill the Cup that clears To - day of past Regret and Future Fears:
Tomorrow! - Why, To - morrow I may be Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n thousand Years.
XXII) For some we loved, the loveliest and the best That from his Vintage rolling Time has prest,
Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before, And one by one crept silently to rest.
XXIII) 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?
XXIV) I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled;
That every Hyacinth the Garden wears Dropt in her Lap from some once lovely Head.

XXV) And this delightful Herb whose living 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!
XXVI) 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!
XXVII) Alike for those who for To - day prepare, And those that after some To - morrow stare,
A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries, "Fools! your Reward is neither Here nor There!"
XXVIII) Another Voice, when I am sleeping, cries, "The Flower should open with the Morning skies."
And a retreating Whisper, as I wake "The Flower that once has blown for ever dies."

XXIX) Why, all the Saints and Sages who discuss'd Of the Two Worlds so learnedly are thrust
Like foolish Prophets forth; their Words to Scorn Are scatter'd, and their Mouths are stopt with Dust.
XXX) 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.
XXXI) With them the seed of Wisdom did I sow, And with my own hand wrought to make it grow;
And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd "I came like Water, and like Wind I go."
XXXII) 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.

XXXIII) What, without asking, hither hurried Whence? And, without asking, Whither hurried hence!
Ah, contrite Heav'n endowed us with the Vine To drug the memory of that insolence!
XXXIV) Up from Earth's Centre through the Seventh Gate I rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate;
And many Knots unravel'd by the Road; But not the Master - knot of Human Fate.
XXXV) There was the Door to which I found no Key: There was the Veil through which I could not see:
Some little talk awhile of Me and Thee There was - and then no more of Thee and Me.
XXXVI) Earth could not answer; non the Seas that mourn In flowing Purple, of their Lord forlorn;
Nor Heaven, with those eternal Signs reveal'd And hidden by the sleeve of Night and Morn.

XXXVII) Then of the Thee in Me who works behind The Veil of Universe I cried to find
A Lamp to guide me through the Darkness; and Something then said - "An Understanding blind."
XXXVIII) Then to the Lip of this poor earthen Urn I lean'd, the secret Well of Life to learn:
And Lip to Lip it murmur'd - "While you live, Drink! - for, once dead, you never shall return."
XXXIX) I think the Vessel, that with fugitive Articulation answer'd, once did live,
And drink; and that impassive Lip I kiss'd, How many Kisses might it take - and give!
XL) For I remember stopping by the way To watch a Potter thumping his wet Clay:
And with its all - obliterated Tongue It murmur'd - "Gently, Brother, gently, pray!"

XLI) For has not such a Story from of Old Down Man's successive generations roll'd
Of such a clod of saturated Earth Cast by the Maker into Human mould?
XLII) And not a drop that from our Cups we throw On the parcht herbage, but may steal below
To quench the fire of Anguish in some Eye There hidden - far beneath, and long ago.
XLIII) As then the Tulip for her wonted sup Of Heavenly Vintage lifts her chalice up,
Do you, twin offspring of the soil, till Heav'n To Earth invert you like an empty Cup.
XLIV) Do you, within your little hour of Grace, The waving Cypress in your Arms enlace, Before the Mother back into her arms Fold, and dissolve you in a last embrace.

XLV) And if the Cup you drink, the Lip you press, End in what All begins and ends in - Yes; Imagine then you are what heretofore You were - hereafter you shall not be less.
XLVI) So when at last the Angel of the Drink Of Darkness finds you by the river - brink,
And, proffering his Cup, invites your Soul Forth to your Lips to quaff it - do not shrink.
XLVII) And fear not lest Existence closing your Account, should lose, or know the type no more;
The Eternal Saki from that Bowl has pour'd Millions of Bubbles like us, and will pour.
XLVIII) When You and I behind the Veil are past, Oh, but the long long while the World shall last,
Which of our Coming and Departure heeds As much as Ocean of a pebble - cast.

XLIX) One Moment in Annihilation's Waste, One Moment, of the Well of Life to taste
The Stars are setting, and the Caravan Draws to the Dawn of Nothing - Oh make haste.
L) Would you that spangle of Existence spend About the secret - quick about it, Friend!
A Hair, they say, divides the False and True And upon what, prithee, does Life depend?
LI) A Hair, they say, divides the False and True; Yes; and a single Alif were the clue
Could you but find it - to the Treasure - house, And peradventure to The Master too;
LII)Whose secret Presence, through Creation's veins Running, Quicksilver - like eludes your pains;
Taking all shapes from Mah to Mahi; and They change and perish all - but He remains;

LIII) A moment guess'd - then back behind the Fold Immerst of Darkness round the Drama roll'd
Which, for the Pastime of Eternity, He does Himself contrive, enact, behold.
LIV) But if in vain, down on the stubborn floor Of Earth, and up to Heav'n's unopening Door,
You gaze To - day, while You are You - how then To - morrow, You when shall be You no more?
LV) Oh, plagued no more with Human or Divine, To - morrow's tangle to itself resign,
And lose your fingers in the tresses of The Cypress - slender Minister of Wine.
LVI) Waste not your Hour, nor in the vain pursuit Of This and That endeavour and dispute;
Better be merry with the fruitful Grape Than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit.

LVII) You know, my Friends, how bravely 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.
LVIII) For "Is" and "Is - Not" though with Rule and Line And "Up - and - down" by Logic I define,
Of all that one should care to fathom, I Was never deep in anything but - Wine.
LIX) Ah, but my Computations, People say, Have squared the Year to human compass, eh?
If so, by striking from the Calendar Unborn To - morrow, and dead Yesterday.
LX) And lately, by the Tavern Door agape, Came shining through the Dusk an Angel Shape
Bearing a Vessel on his Shoulder; and He bid me taste of it; and 'twas - the Grape!

LXI) The Grape that can with Logic absolute The Two - and - Seventy jarring Sects confute:
The sovereign Alchemist that in a trice Life's leaden metal into Gold transmute:
LXII) The mighty Mahmud, Allah - breathing Lord, That all the misbelieving and black Horde
Of Fears and Sorrows that infest the Soul Scatters before him with his whirlwind Sword.
LXIII) Why, be this Juice the growth of God, who dare Blaspheme the twisted tendril as a Snare?
A Blessing, we should use it, should we not? And if a Curse - why, then, Who set it there?
LXIV) I must abjure the Balm of Life, I must, Scared by some After - reckoning ta'en on trust,
Or lured with Hope of some Diviner Drink, When the frail Cup is crumbled into Dust!

LXV) If but the Vine and Love - abjuring Band Are in the Prophet's Paradise to stand,
Alack, I doubt the Prophet's Paradise Were empty as the hollow of one's Hand.
LXVI) Oh threats of Hell and Hopes of Paradise! One thing at least is certain - This Life flies;
One thing is certain and the rest is Lies; The Flower that once is blown for ever dies.
LXVII) Strange, is it not? that of the myriads who Before us pass'd the door of Darkness through,
Not one returns to tell us of the Road, Which to discover we must travel too.
LXVIII) The Revelations of Devout and Learn'd Who rose before us, and as Prophets burn'd,
Are all but Stories, which, awoke from Sleep They told their fellows, and to Sleep return'd.

LXIX) Why, if the Soul can fling the Dust aside, And naked on the Air of Heaven ride,
Is't not a Shame - is't not a Shame for him So long in this Clay Suburb to abide?
LXX) But that is but a Tent wherein may rest A Sultan to the realm of Death addrest;
The Sultan rises, and the dark Ferrash Strikes, and prepares it for another Guest.
LXXI) I sent my Soul through the Invisible, Some letter of that After - life to spell:
And after many days my Soul return'd, And said, "Behold, Myself am Heav'n and Hell:"
LXXII) Heav'n but the Vision of fulfill'd Desire, And Hell the Shadow of a Soul on fire,
Cast on the Darkness into which Ourselves, So late emerged from, shall so soon expire.

LXXIII) We are no other than a moving row Of visionary Shapes that come and go
Round with this Sun - illumin'd Lantern held In Midnight by the Master of the Show;
LXXIV) Impotent Pieces of the Game He plays Upon this Chequer - board of Nights and Days;
Hither and thither moves, and checks, and slays, And one by one back in the Closet lays.
LXXV) The Ball no question makes of Ayes and Noes, But Right or Left as strikes the Player goes;
And He that toss'd you down into the Field, He knows about it all - he knows - He knows!
LXXVI) The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.

LXXVII) For let Philosopher and Doctor preach Of what they will, and what they will not - each
Is but one Link in an eternal Chain That none can slip, nor break, nor over - reach.
LXXVIII) And that inverted Bowl we call The Sky, Whereunder crawling coop'd we live and die,
Lift not your hands to It for help - for It As impotently rolls as you or I.
LXXIX) With Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man knead, And there of the Last Harvest sow'd the Seed:
And the first Morning of Creation wrote What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read.
LXXX) Yesterday This Day's Madness did prepare; To - morrow's Silence, Triumph, or Despair:
Drink! for you know not whence you came, nor why: Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.

LXXXI) I tell you this - When, started from the Goal, Over the flaming shoulders of the Foal
Of Heav'n Parwin and Mushtari they flung, In my predestined Plot of Dust and Soul.
LXXXII) The Vine had struck a fibre: which about If clings my being - let the Dervish flout;
Of my Base metal may be filed a Key, That shall unlock the Door he howls without.
LXXXIII) And this I know: whether the one True Light Kindle to Love, or Wrath - consume me quite,
One Flash of It within the Tavern caught Better than in the Temple lost outright.
LXXXIV) What! out of senseless Nothing to provoke A conscious Something to resent the yoke Of unpermitted Pleasure, under pain Of Everlasting Penalties, if broke!

LXXXV) What! from his helpless Creature be repaid Pure Gold for what he lent us dross - allay'd
Sue for a Debt we never did contract, And cannot answer - Oh the sorry trade!
LXXXVI) Nay, but, for terror of his wrathful Face, I swear I will not call Injustice Grace;
Not one Good Fellow of the Tavern but Would kick so poor a Coward from the place.
LXXXVII) Oh Thou, who didst with pitfall and with gin Beset the Road I was to wander in, Thou wilt not with Predestined Evil round Enmesh, and then impute my Fall to Sin!
LXXXVIII) Oh, Thou, who Man of baser Earth didst make, And ev'n with Paradise devise the Snake:
For all the Sin the Face of wretched Man Is black with - Man's Forgiveness give - and take!

LXXXIX) As under cover of departing Day Slunk hunger - stricken Ramazan away,
Once more within the Potter's house alone I stood, surrounded by the Shapes of Clay.
XC) And once again there gather'd a scarce heard Whisper among them; as it were, the stirr'd
Ashes of some all but extinguisht Tongue, Which mine ear kindled into Living Word.
XCI) Said one among them - "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 shapeless Earth again?"
XCII) Another said - "Why, ne'er a peevish Boy Would break the Cup from which he drank in Joy;
Shall He that of His own free Fancy made The Vessel, in an after - rage destroy!"

XCIII) None answer'd this; but after silence spake Some Vessel of a more ungainly Make;
"They sneer at me for leaning all awry: What! did the Hand then of the Potter shake?"
XCIV) Thus with the Dead as with the Living, What And Why? so ready, but the Wherefore not,
One on a sudden peevishly exclaim'd, "Which is the Potter, pray, and which the Pot?"
XCV) Said one - "Folks of a surly Master tell, And daub his Visage with the Smoke of Hell;
They talk of some sharp Trial of us - Pish! He's a Good Fellow, and 'twill all be well."
XCVI) "Well," said another, "Whoso will, let try, My Clay with long Oblivion is gone dry:
But fill me with the old familiar Juice, Methinks I might recover by and by."

XCVII) So while the Vessels one by one were speaking, One spied the little Crescent all were seeking:
And then they jogg'd each other, "Brother! Brother! Now for the Porter's shoulder - knot a - creaking!"
XCVIII) Ah, with the Grape my fading Life provide, And wash my Body whence the Life has died,
And lay me, shrouded in the living Leaf, By some not unfrequented Garden - side.
XCIX) Whither resorting from the vernal Heat Shall Old Acquaintance Old Acquaintance greet,
Under the Branch that leans above the Wall To shed his Blossom over head and feet.
C) Then ev'n my buried Ashes such a snare Of Vintage shall fling up into the Air
As not a True - believer passing by But shall be overtaken unaware.

CI) Indeed the Idols I have loved so long Have done my credit in Men's eyes much wrong:
Have drown'd my Glory in a shallow Cup And sold my Reputation for a Song.
CII) 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 thread - bare Penitence apieces tore.
CIII) And much as Wine has play'd the Infidel, And robb'd me of my Robe of Honour - Well,
I often wonder what the Vintners buy One half so precious as the ware they sell.
CIV) Yet, Ah, 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!

CV) Would but the Desert of the Fountain yield One glimpse - if dimly, yet indeed, reveal'd,
Toward which the fainting Traveller might spring, As springs the trampled herbage of the field!
CVI) Of if the World were but to re - create, That we might catch ere closed the Book of Fate, And make The Writer on a fairer leaf Inscribe our names, or quite obliterate!
CVII) Better, oh better, cancel from the Scroll Of Universe one luckless Human Soul,
Than drop by drop enlarge the Flood that rolls Hoarser with Anguish as the Ages roll.
CVIII) Ah Love! could you 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!

CIX) But see! The rising Moon of Heav'n again Looks for us, Sweet - heart, through the quivering Plane:
How oft hereafter rising will she look Among those leaves - for one of us in vain!
CX) And when Yourself with silver Foot shall pass Among the Guests Star - scatter'd on the Grass,
And in your joyous errand reach the spot Where I made One - turn down an empty Glass!

Image Sources: Wikimedia Commons

Text Sources: Internet Islamic History Sourcebook: “World Religions” edited by Geoffrey Parrinder (Facts on File Publications, New York); Arab News, Jeddah; “Islam, a Short History” by Karen Armstrong; “A History of the Arab Peoples” by Albert Hourani (Faber and Faber, 1991); “Encyclopedia of the World Cultures” edited by David Levinson (G.K. Hall & Company, New York, 1994); “Encyclopedia of the World’s Religions” edited by R.C. Zaehner (Barnes & Noble Books, 1959); Metropolitan Museum of Art, National Geographic, BBC, New York Times, Washington Post, Los Angeles Times, Smithsonian magazine, The Guardian, BBC, Al Jazeera, Times of London, The New Yorker, Time, Newsweek, Reuters, Associated Press, AFP, Lonely Planet Guides, Library of Congress, Compton’s Encyclopedia and various books and other publications.

Last updated September 2018

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