Page:Quatrains of Omar Khayyam (tr. Whinfield, 1883).djvu/360

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Reason not of the five, nor of the four, Be their dark problems one, or many score; We are but earth, go, minstrel, bring the lute, We are but air, bring wine, I ask no more!

Why argue on Yásin and on Barát? Write me the draft for wine they call Barát! The day my weariness is drowned in wine Will seem to me as the great night Barát!

Whilst thou dost wear this fleshly livery, Step not beyond the bounds of destiny; Bear up, though very Rustams be thy foes, And crave no boon from friends like Hatim Tai!