Page:Quatrains of Omar Khayyam (tr. Whinfield, 1883).djvu/340

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With going to and fro in this sad vale Thou art grown double, and thy credit stale, Thy nails are thickened like a horse's hoof, Thy beard is ragged as an ass's tail.

O unenlightened race of humankind, Ye are a nothing, built on empty wind! Yea, a mere nothing, hovering in the abyss, A void before you, and a void behind!

Each morn I say, "To-night I will repent Of wine, and tavern haunts no more frequent;" But while 'tis spring, and roses are in bloom, To loose me from my promise, O consent!