THE RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM

by Edward FitzGerald

31

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.

32

What, without asking, hither hurried, whence?

And without asking, whither hurried, hence?

Oh, many a Cup of this forbidden Wine

Must drown the memory of that insolence!

33

Up from Earth’s Centre though the Seventh Gate

I rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate,

And many a knot unravel’d by the Road;

But not the Master-knot of Human Fate.

34

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 seem’d – and then no more of THEE and ME.

35

Then of the THEE IN ME who works behind

The Veil, I lifted up my hands to find

A Lamp amid the Darkness and I heard

As from Without – “THE ME WITHIN THEE BLIND!”

36

Then to the Lip of this poor earthen urn

I lean’d the Secret of my Life to learn

And Lip to Lip it murmur’d – “While you live,

“Drink! – for once dead you never shall return.

37

I think the Vessel, that with fugitive

Articulation answer’d, once did live,

And drink; and Ah! the cold Lip I kiss’d

How many Kisses might it take – and give!

38

For in the Market-place, one Dusk of Day,

I watch’d the Potter thumping his wet Clay:

And with its all obliterated Tongue

It murmur’d – “Gently, Brother, gently, pray!”

39

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?

40

And not a drop that from our Cups we throw

For Earth to drink of, but may steal below

To quench the fire of Anguish in some Eye

There hidden — far beneath and long ago.