RUBÁIYÁT OF OMAR KHAYYÁM
Wake! for the sun, the shepherd of the sky,
Has penned the stars within their fold on high,
And, shaking darkness from his mighty limbs,
Scatters the daylight from his burning eye.
In Heaven's blue bowl the wine of morning brims,
A little cloud, a rose-leaf, in it swims,
The thirsty earth drinks morning from a bowl
Whose sides are space and crusted stars its rims.
Yea! 'tis the morn! and like a morning star
The Sultan's palace glitters from afar,
No false mirage of morning, phantom-fair,
But blue-eyed day throned on his diamond car.
Awake! my soul, and haste betimes to drink,
This sun that rises all too soon shall sink,--
Come, come, O vintner, ope thy drowsy door!
We die of thirst upon the fountain's brink.*
Wake! for the sun, the shepherd of the sky,
Has penned the stars within their fold on high,
And, shaking darkness from his mighty limbs,
Scatters the daylight from his burning eye.
In Heaven's blue bowl the wine of morning brims,
A little cloud, a rose-leaf, in it swims,
The thirsty earth drinks morning from a bowl
Whose sides are space and crusted stars its rims.
Yea! 'tis the morn! and like a morning star
The Sultan's palace glitters from afar,
No false mirage of morning, phantom-fair,
But blue-eyed day throned on his diamond car.
Awake! my soul, and haste betimes to drink,
This sun that rises all too soon shall sink,--
Come, come, O vintner, ope thy drowsy door!
We die of thirst upon the fountain's brink.*
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Vanhimmat
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