Page:Quatrains of Omar Khayyam (tr. Whinfield, 1883).djvu/332

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Shall I still sigh for what I have not got, Or try with cheerfulness to bear my lot? Fill up my cup! I know not if the breath I now am drawing is my last, or not!

Yield not to grief, though fortune prove unkind, No call sad thoughts of parted friends to mind; Devote thy heart to sugary lips, and wine, Cast not thy precious life unto the wind!

Of mosque and prayer and fast preach not to me, Rather go drink, were it on charity! Yea, drink, Khayyam, your dust will soon be made A jug, or pitcher, or a cup, may be!