THE RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM 
Written 1120 A.C.E.
Translated by Edward FitzGerald

For in and out, above, about, below,
‘Tis nothing but a Magic Shadowshow,
Play’d in a Box whose Candle is the Sun,
Round which we Phantom Figures come and go.
*****

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.
*****

While the Rose blows along the River Brink,
With old Khayy?m the Ruby Vintage drink :
And when the Angel with his darker Draught
Draws up to Thee – take that, and do not shrink.
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‘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.
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The Ball no question makes of Ayes and Noes,
But Right or Left as strikes the Player goes ;
And He that toss’d Thee down into the Field,
He knows about it all – He knows – HE knows!
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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.
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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.
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With Earth’s first Clay They did the Last Man’s knead,
And then of the Last Harvest sow’d the Seed :
Yea, the first Morning of Creation wrote
What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read.
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I tell Thee this – When, starting from the Goal,
Over the Shoulders of the flaming Foal
Of Heav’n Parw?n and Mushtara they flung,
In my predestin’d Plot of Dust and Soul.
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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.
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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.
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Oh Thou, who didst with Pitfall and with Gin
Beset the Road I was to wander it,
Thou wilt not with Predestination round
Enmesh me, and impute my Fall to Sin ?
*****

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 blacken’d, Man’s Forgiveness give – and take!