Page:The Sacred Books and Early Literature of the East, Volume 08.djvu/101



These heavens resemble an inverted cup,

Whereto the wise with awe keep gazing up;

So stoops the bottle o'er his love, the cup,

Feigning to kiss, and gives her blood to sup!

I sweep the tavern threshold with my hair,

For both world's good and ill I take no care;

Should the two worlds roll to my house, like balls,

When drunk, for one small coin I'd sell the pair!

The drop wept for his severance from the sea,

But the sea smiled, for "I am all," said he,

"The Truth is all, nothing exists beside,

That one point circling apes plurality. "

Shall I still sigh for what I have not got,

Or try with cheerfulness to bear my lot?

Fill up my cup! I know not if the breath

I now am drawing is my last, or not!

Yield not to grief, though fortune prove unkind,

Nor call sad thoughts of parted friends to mind;

Devote thy heart to sugary lips, and wine,

Cast not thy precious life unto the wind!

Of mosque and prayer and fast preach not to me,

Rather go drink, were it on charity!

Yea, drink, Khayyam, your dust will soon be made

A jug, or pitcher, or a cup, may be!