Page:Quatrains of Omar Khayyam (tr. Whinfield, 1883).djvu/324

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Bring forth that ruby gem of Badakhshán, That heart's delight, that balm of Turkistán; They say 'tis wrong for Musulmáns to drink, But ah! where can we find a Musulmán?

My body's life and strength proceed from Thee! My soul within and spirit are of Thee! My being is of Thee, and Thou art mine, And I am Thine, since I am lost in Thee!

Man, like a ball, hither and thither goes, As fate's resistless bat directs the blows; But He, who gives thee up to this rude sport, He knows what drives thee, yea, He knows, He knows!