Page:Quatrains of Omar Khayyam (tr. Whinfield, 1883).djvu/220

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O soul! lay up all earthly goods in store, Thy mead with pleasure's flowerets spangle o'er; And know 'tis all as dew, that decks the flowers For one short night, and then is seen no more!

Heed not the Sunna, nor the law divine; If to the poor his portion you assign, And never injure one, nor yet abuse, I guarantee you heaven, and now some wine!

Vexed by this wheel of things, that pets the base. My sorrow-laden life drags on apace; Like rosebud, from the storm I wrap me close, And blood-spots on my heart, like tulip, trace.