Toshi kurenu
Kasa kite waraji
Hakinagara
Another year is gone;
and I still wear
straw hat and straw sandal.
Matsuo Basho
The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam
Edward FitzGerald (Fifth Edition)
I
Wake! For the Sun, who scatter’d into flight
The Stars before him from the Field of Night,
Drives Night along with them from Heav'n, and strikes
T'he Sultans Turret with a Shaft of Light.
2
Before the phantom of False morning died,
Methought a Voice within the Tavern cried,
"When all the Temple is prepared within,
"Why nods the drowsy Worshipper outside?"
3
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."
4
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.
5
Iram indeed is gone with all his Rose,
And Jamshyd's Sev'n-ring'd Cup where no one knows;
But still a Ruby kindles in the Vine,
And many a Garden by the Water blows.
6
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.
7
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.
8
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.
http://www.iranonline.com/literature/indexbc-khayyam.html
The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam
Edward FitzGerald (Fifth Edition)
97
Would but the Desert of the Fountain yield
One glimpse-if dimly, yet indeed, reveal'd,
To which the fainting Traveller might spring,
As springs the trampled herbage of the field!
98
Would but some winged Angel ere too late
Arrest the yet unfolded Roll of Fate,
And make the stern Recorder otherwise
Enregister, or quite obliterate!
99
Ah Love! could you and I with Him 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!
100
Yon rising Moon that looks for us again
How oft hereafter will she wax and wane;
How oft hereafter rising look for us
Through this same Garden-and for one in vain
101
And when like her, oh Saki, you 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!
To find the rest inbetween, go to the website. It is too much to post here.
Love,
Vicky
Edward FitzGerald (Fifth Edition)
I
Wake! For the Sun, who scatter’d into flight
The Stars before him from the Field of Night,
Drives Night along with them from Heav'n, and strikes
T'he Sultans Turret with a Shaft of Light.
2
Before the phantom of False morning died,
Methought a Voice within the Tavern cried,
"When all the Temple is prepared within,
"Why nods the drowsy Worshipper outside?"
3
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."
4
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.
5
Iram indeed is gone with all his Rose,
And Jamshyd's Sev'n-ring'd Cup where no one knows;
But still a Ruby kindles in the Vine,
And many a Garden by the Water blows.
6
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.
7
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.
8
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.
http://www.iranonline.com/literature/indexbc-khayyam.html
The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam
Edward FitzGerald (Fifth Edition)
97
Would but the Desert of the Fountain yield
One glimpse-if dimly, yet indeed, reveal'd,
To which the fainting Traveller might spring,
As springs the trampled herbage of the field!
98
Would but some winged Angel ere too late
Arrest the yet unfolded Roll of Fate,
And make the stern Recorder otherwise
Enregister, or quite obliterate!
99
Ah Love! could you and I with Him 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!
100
Yon rising Moon that looks for us again
How oft hereafter will she wax and wane;
How oft hereafter rising look for us
Through this same Garden-and for one in vain
101
And when like her, oh Saki, you 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!
To find the rest inbetween, go to the website. It is too much to post here.
Love,
Vicky
Lotusland
Illumed by radiance of resplendent dawns,
That flood the dazzling dome of an Eastern strand;
The Lotus-Lady mourns!
Lost in the dreamy realms of Lotusland.
Afar she looks across her lotus lawns,
By mortal step or mortal eye unscanned;
The Lotus-Lady mourns!
Kissed by the spectres lost in Lotusland.
A zone of gems her fragrant brow adorns,
By seven mystic maids her face is fanned
The Lotus-Lady mourns!
For her lover fled from Lotusland.
Cyril Scott
Illumed by radiance of resplendent dawns,
That flood the dazzling dome of an Eastern strand;
The Lotus-Lady mourns!
Lost in the dreamy realms of Lotusland.
Afar she looks across her lotus lawns,
By mortal step or mortal eye unscanned;
The Lotus-Lady mourns!
Kissed by the spectres lost in Lotusland.
A zone of gems her fragrant brow adorns,
By seven mystic maids her face is fanned
The Lotus-Lady mourns!
For her lover fled from Lotusland.
Cyril Scott
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