Page:Quatrains of Omar Khayyam (tr. Whinfield, 1883).djvu/72

16

'Tis we who to wine's yoke our necks incline, And risk our lives to gain the smiles of wine; The henchman grasps the flagon by its throat And squeezes out the lifeblood of the wine.

Here in this tavern haunt I make my lair, Pawning for wine, heart, soul, and all I wear, Without a hope of bliss, or fear of bale, Rapt above water, earth and fire and air.

Quoth fish to duck, "'Twill be a sad affair, If this brook leaves its channel dry and bare;" To whom the duck, " When I am dead and roasted The brook may run with wine for aught I care."