Page:Quatrains of Omar Khayyam (tr. Whinfield, 1883).djvu/62

6

When I am dead, with wine my body lave, For obit chant a bacchanalian stave, And, if you need me at the day of doom, Beneath the tavern threshold seek my grave.

Since no one can assure thee of the morrow, Rejoice thy heart to-day, and banish sorrow With moonbright wine, fair moon, for heaven's moon Will look for us in vain on many a morrow.

Let lovers all distraught and frenzied be, And flown with wine, and reprobates, like me; When sober, I find everything amiss, But in my cups cry, "Let what will be be."