Page:Quatrains of Omar Khayyam (tr. Whinfield, 1883).djvu/60

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'Tis but a day we sojourn here below, And all the gain we get is grief and woe, And then, leaving life's riddles all unsolved, And burdened with regrets, we have to go.

Khaja! grant one request, and only one, Wish me God-speed, and get your preaching done; I walk aright, 'tis you who see awry; Go! heal your purblind eyes, leave me alone.

Arise! and come, and of thy courtesy Resolve my weary heart's perplexity, And fill my goblet, so that I may drink, Or e'er they make their goblets out of me.