Page:Quatrains of Omar Khayyam (tr. Whinfield, 1883).djvu/176

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The heavenly Sage, whose wit exceeds compare, Counteth each vein, and numbereth every hair; Men you may cheat by hypocritc arts, But how cheat Him to whom all hearts are bare?

Ah! wine lends wings to many a weary wight, And beauty spots to ladies' faces bright; All Ramazan I have not drunk a drop, Thrice welcome then, O Bairam's blessed night!

All night in deep bewilderment I fret, With tear-drops big as pearls my breast is wet; I cannot fill my cranium with wine, How can it hold wine, when 'tis thus upset?