Page:Quatrains of Omar Khayyam (tr. Whinfield, 1883).djvu/110

54

O foolish one! this molded earth is naught; This particolored vault of heaven is naught; Our sojourn in this seat of life and death Is but one breath, and what is that but naught?

Some wine, a Houri (Houris if there be), A green bank by a stream, with minstrelsy;— Toil not to find a better Paradise, If other Paradise indeed there be!

To the wine-house I saw the sage repair, Bearing a wine-cup, and a mat for prayer; I said, "O Shaikh, what does this conduct mean?" Said he, "Go drink! the world is naught but air."