never blows so red the rose
Selections from the Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám
(trans. Edward FitzGerald)
I
Awake! for Morning in the Bowl of Night
Has flung the Stone that puts the Stars to Flight:
And Lo! the Hunter of the East has caught
The Sultan's Turret in a Noose of Light.
VII
Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring
The Winter Garment of Repentance fling:
The Bird of Time has but a little way
To fly-- and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing.
XI
Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,
A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse-- and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness--
And Wilderness is Paradise enow.
XVIII
I sometimes think that never blows so red
The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled;
That every Hyacinth the Garden wears
Dropt in its Lap from some once lovely Head.
XXIX
Into this Universe, and Why not knowing,
Nor Whence, like Water willy-nilly flowing;
And out of it, as Wind along the Waste,
I know not Whither, willy-nilly blowing.
XXX
What, without asking, hither hurried Whence?
And, without asking, Whither hurried hence!
Another and another Cup to drown
The Memory of this Impertinence!
XXXII
There was a Door to which I found no Key:
There was a Veil past which I could not see:
Some little Talk awhile of Me and Thee
There seem'd-- and then no more of Thee and Me.
LI
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.
LXXIII
Ah, Love! could thou and I with Fate conspire
To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,
Would we not shatter it to bits-- and then
Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!
LXXV
And when Thyself with shining Foot shall pass
Among the Guests Star-scatter'd on the Grass,
And in thy joyous Errand reach the Spot
Where I made one-- turn down an empty Glass!
(Tamám Shud)
Notes: Omar Khayyám, as well as being a poet, was an 11th-century Persian mathematician, astronomer, and philosopher. He was attached to the court of Sultan Malik Shah, and through astronomical observations and calculations developed the method to correct the Persian calendar, among other things.
The "rubáiyát" is not in fact the name of the poem itself, precisely; "rubáiyát" means "quatrain," and is a term similar to sestina or sonnet -- it is a description of the four-line poetry form that Khayyám preferred. He's thought to have written anywhere from 600 to a thousand verses, but certain attribution of many of them is problematic.
The FitzGerald translations (there are four of them, as he strove for many years to perfect his understanding of Khayyám's work, and so each progressive translation is slightly different) are the best-known, perhaps, and with good reason. Edward FitzGerald chose the quatrains with care and arranged them in an order that contributes to the feel of the work as a whole, and did so with an attentiveness and a deftness that gives him claim to being a poet as well. His work might have gone unnoticed, however, save for Dante Gabriel Rossetti, who discovered a copy from the initial small printing and who sent it through London's literary circles in 1859. Another notable name who confirmed FitzGerald's talent was Alfred, Lord Tennyson -- and even though there are other translations, the FitzGerald version remains preeminent above all others, I think.
I've selected a few of my favorite quatrains to share here. Some of them are fairly well-known, I think, and will be recognized; some may not be. In any case, the collected Rubáiyát as a whole is something that I find very evocative -- for me, it provokes philosophical introspection, and I've spent more than one afternoon thinking things over on the bank of one or another small creek, with a "loaf of bread beneath the bough, a flask of wine, a book of verse...."-- well, you get the idea. And so, I highly recommend taking the time to read the work as a whole, and to spend some time considering the ideas that it inspires-- I doubt you'll regret it.
(trans. Edward FitzGerald)
I
Awake! for Morning in the Bowl of Night
Has flung the Stone that puts the Stars to Flight:
And Lo! the Hunter of the East has caught
The Sultan's Turret in a Noose of Light.
VII
Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring
The Winter Garment of Repentance fling:
The Bird of Time has but a little way
To fly-- and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing.
XI
Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,
A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse-- and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness--
And Wilderness is Paradise enow.
XVIII
I sometimes think that never blows so red
The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled;
That every Hyacinth the Garden wears
Dropt in its Lap from some once lovely Head.
XXIX
Into this Universe, and Why not knowing,
Nor Whence, like Water willy-nilly flowing;
And out of it, as Wind along the Waste,
I know not Whither, willy-nilly blowing.
XXX
What, without asking, hither hurried Whence?
And, without asking, Whither hurried hence!
Another and another Cup to drown
The Memory of this Impertinence!
XXXII
There was a Door to which I found no Key:
There was a Veil past which I could not see:
Some little Talk awhile of Me and Thee
There seem'd-- and then no more of Thee and Me.
LI
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.
LXXIII
Ah, Love! could thou and I with Fate conspire
To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,
Would we not shatter it to bits-- and then
Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!
LXXV
And when Thyself with shining Foot shall pass
Among the Guests Star-scatter'd on the Grass,
And in thy joyous Errand reach the Spot
Where I made one-- turn down an empty Glass!
(Tamám Shud)
Notes: Omar Khayyám, as well as being a poet, was an 11th-century Persian mathematician, astronomer, and philosopher. He was attached to the court of Sultan Malik Shah, and through astronomical observations and calculations developed the method to correct the Persian calendar, among other things.
The "rubáiyát" is not in fact the name of the poem itself, precisely; "rubáiyát" means "quatrain," and is a term similar to sestina or sonnet -- it is a description of the four-line poetry form that Khayyám preferred. He's thought to have written anywhere from 600 to a thousand verses, but certain attribution of many of them is problematic.
The FitzGerald translations (there are four of them, as he strove for many years to perfect his understanding of Khayyám's work, and so each progressive translation is slightly different) are the best-known, perhaps, and with good reason. Edward FitzGerald chose the quatrains with care and arranged them in an order that contributes to the feel of the work as a whole, and did so with an attentiveness and a deftness that gives him claim to being a poet as well. His work might have gone unnoticed, however, save for Dante Gabriel Rossetti, who discovered a copy from the initial small printing and who sent it through London's literary circles in 1859. Another notable name who confirmed FitzGerald's talent was Alfred, Lord Tennyson -- and even though there are other translations, the FitzGerald version remains preeminent above all others, I think.
I've selected a few of my favorite quatrains to share here. Some of them are fairly well-known, I think, and will be recognized; some may not be. In any case, the collected Rubáiyát as a whole is something that I find very evocative -- for me, it provokes philosophical introspection, and I've spent more than one afternoon thinking things over on the bank of one or another small creek, with a "loaf of bread beneath the bough, a flask of wine, a book of verse...."-- well, you get the idea. And so, I highly recommend taking the time to read the work as a whole, and to spend some time considering the ideas that it inspires-- I doubt you'll regret it.