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    The Ruba'iyat of Omar Khayyam Omar Khayyám Edward FitzGerald TranslatorWritten 1120 ACE Omar Khayyam was born at Naishapur in Khorassan in the latter half of Eleventh Century and died within the First uarter of Twelfth Century I Wake For the Sun who scatter'd into flight The Stars before him from the Field of NightDrives Night along with them from Heav'n and strikes The Sultan's Turret with a Shaft of LightII Before the phantom of False morning diedMethought a Voice within the Tavern cried When all the Temple is prepared withinWhy nods the drowsy Worshipper outside? III And as the Cock crew those who stood beforeThe Tavern shouted Open then the DoorYou know how little while we have to stay And once departed may return no IV Now the New Year reviving old Desires The thoughtful Soul to Solitude retires Where the White Hand Of Moses on the BoughPuts out and Jesus from the Ground suspiresV Iram indeed is gone with all his Rose And Jamshyd's Sev'n ring'd Cup where no one knows; But still a Ruby kindles in the Vine And many a Garden by the Water blowsVI And David's lips are lockt; but in divine High piping Pehlevi with Wine Wine Wine Red Wine the Nightingale cries to the Rose That sallow cheek of hers t' incarnadine VII Come fill the Cup and in the fire of SpringYour Winter garment of Repentance fling The Bird of Time bas but a little way To flutter and the Bird is on the WingVIII Whether at Naishapur or Babylon Whether the Cup with sweet or bitter runThe Wine of Life keeps oozing drop by drop The Leaves of Life keep falling one by one IX Each Morn a thousand Roses brings you say;Yes but where leaves the Rose of Yesterday? And this first Summer month that brings the Rose Shall take Jamshyd and Kaikobad awayX Well let it take them What have we to do With Kaikobad the Great or Kaikhosru? Let Zal and Rustum bluster as they willOr Hatim call to Supper heed not you XI With me along the strip of Herbage strownThat just divides the desert from the sown Where name of Slave and Sultan is forgot And Peace to Mahmud on his golden Throne XII A Book of Verses underneath the Bough A Jug of Wine a Loaf of Bread and ThouBeside me singing in the Wilderness Oh Wilderness were Paradise enow XIII Some for the Glories of This World; and someSigh for the Prophet's Paradise to come; Ah take the Cash and let the Credit goNor heed the rumble of a distant DrumXIV Look to the blowing Rose about us Lo Laughing she says into the world I blow At once the silken tassel of my Purse Tear and its Treasure on the Garden throw XV And those who husbanded the Golden grainAnd those who flung it to the winds like Rain Alike to no such aureate Earth are turn'dAs buried once Men want dug up again XVI The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon Turns Ashes or it prospers; and anon Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty Face Lighting a little hour or two is gone XVII Think in this batter'd Caravanserai Whose Portals are alternate Night and Day How Sultan after Sultan with his Pomp Abode his destined Hour and went his wayXVIII They say the Lion and the Lizard keep The Courts where Jamshyd gloried and drank deep And Bahram that great Hunter the Wild AssStamps o'er his Head but cannot break his Sleep XIX I sometimes think that never blows so redThe Rose as where some buried Caesar bled; That every Hyacinth the Garden wears Dropt in her Lap from some once lovely Head XX And this reviving Herb whose tender Green Fledges the River Lip on which we lean Ah lean upon it lightly for who knows From what once lovely Lip it springs unseen XXI Ah my Belov'ed fill the Cup that clearsTo day Past Regrets and Future Fears To morrow Why To morrow I may be Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n Thousand YearsXXII For some we loved the loveliest and the best That from his Vintage rolling Time hath prestHave drunk their Cup a Round or two before And one by one crept silently to restXXIII And we that now make merry in the Room They left and Summer dresses in new bloom Ourselves must we beneath the Couch of EarthDescend ourselves to make a Couch for whom? XXIV Ah make the most of what we yet may spendBefore we too into the Dust descend; Dust into Dust and under Dust to lie Sans Wine sans Song sans Singer and sans EndXXV Alike for those who for To day prepare And those that after some To morrow stare A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness criesFools your Reward is neither Here nor There XXVI Why all the Saints and Sages who discuss'd Of the Two Worlds so wisely they are thrust Like foolish Prophets forth; their Words to Scorn Are scatter'd and their Mouths are stopt with DustXXVII Myself when young did eagerly freuent Doctor and Saint and heard great argumentAbout it and about but ever Came out by the same door where in I wentXXVIII With them the seed of Wisdom did I sow And with mine own hand wrought to make it grow; And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd I came like Water and like Wind I go 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 blowingXXX What without asking hither hurried Whence? And without asking Whither hurried henceOh many a Cup of this forbidden Wine Must drown the memory of that insolence XXXI Up from Earth's Centre through the Seventh Gate rose and on the Throne of Saturn sate; And many a Knot unravel'd by the Road; But not the Master knot of Human FateXXXII There was the Door to which I found no Key;There was the Veil through which I might not see Some little talk awhile of Me and Thee There was and then no of Thee and MeXXXIII Earth could not answer; nor the Seas that mourn In flowing Purple of their Lord forlorn;Nor rolling Heaven with all his Signs reveal'dAnd hidden by the sleeve of Night and Morn XXXIV Then of the Thee in Me works behind The Veil I lifted up my hands to find A Lamp amid the Darkness; and I heard As from Without The Me Within Thee Blind XXXV Then to the lip of this poor earthen UrnI lean'd the Secret of my Life to learnAnd Lip to Lip it murmur'd While you live Drink for once dead you never shall returnXXXVI I think the Vessel that with fugitive Articulation answer'd once did live And drink; and Ah the passive Lip I kiss'dHow many Kisses might it take and give XXXVII For I remember stopping by the way To watch a Potter thumping his wet Clay And with its all obliterated Tongue It murmur'd Gently Brother gently prayXXXVIII And has not such a Story from of Old Down Man's successive generations roll'dOf such a clod of saturated Earth Cast by the Maker into Human mould? XXXIX And not a drop that from our Cups we throwFor Earth to drink of but may steal below To uench the fire of Anguish in some Eye There hidden far beneath and long agoXL As then the Tulip for her morning sup Of Heav'nly Vintage from the soil looks up Do you devoutly do the like till Heav'n To Earth invert you like an empty CupXLI Perplext no with Human or Divine To morrow's tangle to the winds resign And lose your fingers in the tresses of The Cypress slender Minister of WineXLII And if the Wine you drink the Lip you pressEnd in what All begins and ends in Yes;Think then you are To day what Yesterday You were To morrow You shall not be less XLIII So when that Angel of the darker Drink At last shall find you by the river brinkAnd offering his Cup invite your Soul Forth to your Lips to uaff you shall not shrinkXLIV Why if the Soul can fling the Dust asideAnd naked on the Air of Heaven ride Were't not a Shame were't not a Shame for him In this clay carcase crippled to abide?XLV 'Tis but a Tent where takes his one day's rest A Sultan to the realm of Death addrest; The Sultan rises and the dark Ferrash Strikes and prepares it for another GuestXLVI And fear not lest Existence closing yourAccount and mine should know the like no ; The Eternal Saki from that Bowl has pour'dMillions of Bubbles like us and will pourXLVII When You and I behind the Veil are pastOh but the long long while the World shall last Which of our Coming and Departure heeds As the Sea's self should heed a pebble castXLVIII A Moment's Halt a momentary taste Of Being from the Well amid the Waste And Lo the phantom Caravan has reach'd The Nothing it set out from Oh make hasteXLIX Would you that spangle of Existence spendAbout the Secret uick about it FriendA Hair perhaps divides the False and True And upon what prithee may life depend? L A Hair perhaps divides the False and True;Yes; and a single Alif were the clue Could you but find it to the Treasure house And peradventure to The Master too;LI Whose secret Presence through Creation's veins Running uicksilver like eludes your pains; Taking all shapes from Mah to Mahi; and They change and perish all but He remains;LII A moment guess'd then back behind the Fold Immerst of Darkness round the Drama roll'd Which for the Pastime of Eternity He doth Himself contrive enact beholdLIII But if in vain down on the stubborn floor Of Earth and up to Heav'n's unopening DoorYou gaze To day while You are You how then To morrow You when shall be You no ? LIV Waste not your Hour nor in the vain pursuitOf This and That endeavour and dispute; Better be jocund with the fruitful GrapeThan sadden after none or bitter FruitLV You know my Friends with what a brave Carouse I made a Second Marriage in my house; Divorced old barren Reason from my Bed And took the Daughter of the Vine to Spouse LVI For Is and Is not though with Rule and Line And Up and Down by Logic I define Of all that one should care to fathom Was never deep in anything but WineLVII Ah but my Computations People say Reduced the Year to better reckoning? Nay 'Twas only striking from the Calendar Unborn To morrow and dead YesterdayLVIII And lately by the Tavern Door agape Came shining through the Dusk an Angel Shape Bearing a Vessel on his Shoulder; and He bid me taste of it; and 'twas the GrapeLIX The Grape that can with Logic absolute The Two and Seventy jarring Sects confuteThe sovereign Alchemist that in a trice Life's leaden metal into Gold transmute LX The mighty Mahmud Allah breathing Lord That all the misbelieving and black HordeOf Fears and Sorrows that infest the Soul Scatters before him with his whirlwind SwordLXI Why be this Juice the growth of God who dare Blaspheme the twisted tendril as a Snare? A Blessing we should use it should we not? And if a Curse why then Who set it there?LXII I must abjure the Balm of Life I must Scared by some After reckoning ta'en on trustOr lured with Hope of some Diviner DrinkTo fill the Cup when crumbled into DustLXIII Oh threats of Hell and Hopes of ParadiseOne thing at least is certain This Life flies; One thing is certain and the rest is Lies; The Flower that once has blown for ever diesLXIV Strange is it not? that of the myriads whoBefore us pass'd the door of Darkness through Not one returns to tell us of the Road Which to discover we must travel tooLXV The Revelations of Devout and Learn'd Who rose before us and as Prophets burn'd Are all but Stories which awoke from SleepThey told their comrades and to Sleep return'dLXVI I sent my Soul through the Invisible Some letter of that After life to spellAnd by and by my Soul return'd to me And answer'd I Myself am Heav'n and Hell LXVII Heav'n but the Vision of fulfill'd Desire And Hell the Shadow from a Soul on fireCast on the Darkness into which Ourselves So late emerged from shall so soon expire LXVIII We are no other than a moving row Of Magic Shadow shapes that come and go Round with the Sun illumined Lantern heldIn Midnight by the Master of the Show;LXIX But helpless Pieces of the Game He plays Upon this Cheuer board of Nights and Days;Hither and thither moves and checks and slays And one by one back in the Closet lays LXXThe Ball no uestion makes of Ayes and NoesBut Here or There as strikes the Player goes; And He that toss'd you down into the FieldHe knows about it all He knows HE knows LXXI The Moving Finger writes; and having writMoves on nor all your Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of itLXXII And that inverted Bowl they call the SkyWhereunder crawling coop'd we live and die Lift not your hands to It for help for ItAs impotently moves as you or ILXXIII With Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man knead And there of the Last Harvest sow'd the Seed And the first Morning of Creation wrote What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall readLXXIV Yesterday This Day's Madness did prepare;To morrow's Silence Triumph or DespairDrink for you know not whence you came nor why Drink for you know not why you go nor whereLXXV I tell you this When started from the Goal Over the flaming shoulders of the Foal Of Heav'n Parwin and Mushtari they flungIn my predestined Plot of Dust and SoulLXXVI The Vine had struck a fibre which about If clings my being let the Dervish flout; Of my Base metal may be filed a Key That shall unlock the Door he howls withoutLXXVII And this I know whether the one True LightKindle to Love or Wrath consume me uiteOne Flash of It within the Tavern caught Better than in the Temple lost outright LXXVIII What out of senseless Nothing to provokeA conscious Something to resent the yokeOf unpermitted Pleasure under pain Of Everlasting Penalties if brokeLXXIX What from his helpless Creature be repaidPure Gold for what he lent him dross allay'd Sue for a Debt he never did contract And cannot answer Oh the sorry tradeLXXX Oh Thou who didst with pitfall and with gin Beset the Road I was to wander in Thou wilt not with Predestined Evil roundEnmesh and then impute my Fall to SinLXXXI Oh Thou who Man of baser Earth didst makeAnd ev'n with Paradise devise the SnakeFor all the Sin wherewith the Face of Man Is blacken'd Man's forgiveness give and take LXXXII As under cover of departing Day Slunk hunger stricken Ramazan away Once within the Potter's house alone I stood surrounded by the Shapes of ClayLXXXIII Shapes of all Sorts and Sizes great and small That stood along the floor and by the wall; And some louacious Vessels were; and someListen'd perhaps but never talk'd at allLXXXIV Said one among them Surely not in vain My substance of the common Earth was ta'enAnd to this Figure moulded to be broke Or trampled back to shapeless Earth againLXXXV Then said a Second Ne'er a peevish Boy Would break the Bowl from which he drank in joy And He that with his hand the Vessel made Will surely not in after Wrath destroy LXXXVI After a momentary silence spake Some Vessel of a ungainly Make; They sneer at me for leaning all awryWhat did the Hand then of the Potter shake?LXXXVII Whereat some one of the louacious Lot I think a Sufi pipkin waxing hot All this of Pot and Potter Tell me then Who is the Potter pray and who the Pot?LXXXVIII Why said another Some there are who tell Of one who threatens he will toss to HellThe luckless Pots he marr'd in making Pish He's a Good Fellow and 'twill all be well LXXXIX Well Murmur'd one Let whoso make or buy My Clay with long Oblivion is gone dry But fill me with the old familiar juiceMethinks I might recover by and byXC So while the Vessels one by one were speaking The little Moon look'd in that all were seekingAnd then they jogg'd each other Brother Brother Now for the Porter's shoulder knot a creaking XCI Ah with the Grape my fading Life provide And wash the Body whence the Life has diedAnd lay me shrouded in the living Leaf By some not unfreuented Garden side XCII That ev'n my buried Ashes such a snare Of Vintage shall fling up into the Air As not a True believer passing by But shall be overtaken unawareXCIII Indeed the Idols I have loved so long Have done my credit in this World much wrong Have drown'd my Glory in a shallow Cup And sold my Reputation for a Song XCIV Indeed indeed Repentance of before I swore but was I sober when I swore? And then and then came Spring and Rose in handMy thread bare Penitence apieces toreXCV And much as Wine has play'd the InfidelAnd robb'd me of my Robe of Honour WellI wonder often what the Vintners buy One half so precious as the stuff they sell XCVI Yet Ah that Spring should vanish with the Rose That Youth's sweet scented manuscript should close The Nightingale that in the branches sang Ah whence and whither flown again who knows XCVII Would but the Desert of the Fountain yieldOne glimpse if dimly yet indeed reveal'd To which the fainting Traveller might springAs springs the trampled herbage of the fieldتاریخ نخستین خوانش این نسخه ماد فوریه سال 2004 میلادیدر دفترم، دوازده نسخه از این کتاب مستطاب، هنوز هم هست؛ برای همین است که مشخصات نسخه های چاپ شده را، در این ریویو نمیبینید، بسیار زیاد است، و نوشتن تکه ای از پاره های نشر نیز، دردی را از پژوهشگران، درمان نخواهد کرد، و نمیکند؛ تاریخ نخستین خوانش این فراموشکار از خیام دلآویز نیز، به دوره ی دبیرستان فیوضات تبریز برمیگردد، سالهای 1342 هجری شمسی به بعد، چند سال پیشتر، خواستم نسخه ی روانشاد ادوارد فیتزجرالد را، با نسخه های کهن موجود در اینترنت، برابر نهم، و و برای خود پژوهشی کنم، شاید که گرهی گشوده شود؛ بیشتر نسخه ها را گرد آوردم، و صفحاتی چند از نسخه ی چاپ شده ی فیتز جرالد را نیز یافتم، سپس به نسخه های هدایت، و دیگران پرداختم، هنوز هم گاه، دستی بالا میزنم، و چند خطی مینویسمجامی­ ست که عقل آفرین می­زندش، صد بوسه­ ی مهر، بر جبین می­زندشاین کوزه­ گر دهر چنین جام لطیف، می­سازد، و باز، برزمین می­زندشای کاش که جای آرمیدن بودی، یا این ره دور را رسیدن بودییا از پس صد هزار سال از دل خاک، چون سبزه امید بردمیدن بودیاین کوزه چو من عاشق زاری بوده ست، در بند سر زلف نگاری بوده ستاین دسته که بر گردن او می بینی، دستی است که بر گردن یاری بودستهرچند که رنگ و روی زیباست مرا، چون لاله رخ و چو سرو بالاست مرامعلوم نشد که در طربخانه ی خاک، نقاش ازل بهر چه آراست مراخیاما شربیانی


  2. says:

    The Ruba'iyat of Omar Khayyam Omar Khayyám Edward FitzGerald TranslatorOmar Khayyám was a Persian polymath mathematician philosopher astronomer physician and poet He wrote treatises on mechanics geography and music His significance as a philosopher and teacher and his few remaining philosophical works have not received the same attention as his scientific and poetic writings Zamakhshari referred to him as “the philosopher of the world” Many sources have testified that he taught for decades the philosophy of Ibn Sina in Nishapur where Khayyám was born buried and where his mausoleum remains today a masterpiece of Iranian architecture visited by many people every year Outside Iran and Persian speaking countries Khayyám has had impact on literature and societies through translation and works of scholars The greatest such impact among several others was in English speaking countries; the English scholar Thomas Hyde 1636–1703 was the first non Persian to study him The most influential of all was Edward FitzGerald 1809–83 who made Khayyám the most famous poet of the East in the West through his celebrated translation and adaptations of Khayyám's rather small number of uatrains rubaiyaas in Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyámترانه‌ های خیام، اثر صادق هدایت؛ کتابی مشهور است که ناشناس مانده؛ نسخه های چاپ شده را در این ریویو نمیبینید، بسیار زیاد هستند و نوشتن تکه ای از پاره های نشر هم دردی را از پژوهشگران درمان نخواهد کرد و نمیکند؛ تاریخ نخستین خوانش این فراموشکار از خیام دلآویز نیز به دوره ی دبیرستان فیوضات تبریز برمیگردد، سالهای 1342 هجری شمسی به بعد، چند سال پیشتر خواستم نسخه ی روانشاد ادوارد فیتزجرالد را با نسخه های کهن موجود در اینترنت برابر نهم و برای خود پژوهشی کنم شاید که گرهی گشوده شود؛ بیشتر نسخه ها را گرد آوردم و صفحاتی چند از نسخه ی چاپ شده فیتز جرالد را نیز یافتم، سپس به نسخه های هدایت و دیگران پرداختم، هنوز هم گاه دستی بالا میزنم و چند خطی مینویسمجامی­ ست که عقل، آفرین می­زندش، صد بوسه­ یِ مهر، بر جبین می­زندشاین کوزه­ گرِ دهر، چنین جام لطیف، می­سازد و باز، برزمین می­زندشای کاش، که جایِ آرمیدن بودی، یا این رهِ دور را، رسیدن بودییا از پسِ صد هزار سال، از دلِ خاک، چون سبزه، امیدِ بردمیدن بودیاین کوزه چو من، عاشق زاری بوده ست، در بندِ سرِ زلفِ نگاری بوده ستاین دسته که بر گردن او میبینی، دستی ست که بر گردن یاری بوده ستهرچند که رنگ و روی زیباست مرا، چون لاله رخ و، چو سرو بالاست مرامعلوم نشد، که در طربخانه ی خاک، نقاش ازل، بهر چه، آراست مراخیاما شربیانی


  3. says:

    Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam Omar KhayyamOmar Khayyam was born at Naishapur in Khorassan in the latter half of Eleventh and died within the First uarter of Twelfth Century The Slender Story of his Life is curiously twined about that of two other very considerable Figures in their Time and Country one of whom tells the Story of all Three This was Nizam ul Mulk Vizier to Alp Arslan the Son and Malik Shah the Grandson of Toghrul Beg the Tartar who had wrested Persia from the feeble Successor of Mahmud the Great and founded that Seljukian Dynasty which finally roused Europe into the Crusadesتاریخ نخستین خوانش این نسخه در ماه فوریه سال 2004 میلادیاین کوزه چو من عاشق زاری بوده ستدر بند سر زلف نگاری بوده ستاین دسته که بر گردن او می بینیدستی است که بر گردن یاری بودستخیامدر دفترم دوازده نسخه از این کتاب مستطاب هنوز هم هست؛ برای همین است مشخصات نسخه های چاپ شده را در این ریویو نمیبینید، بسیار است و نوشتن تکه ای از پاره های نشر هم دردی را از پژوهشگران درمان نخواهد کرد، و نمیکند؛ تاریخ نخستین خوانش این فراموشکار از خیام دلآویز نیز به دوره ی دبیرستان فیوضات تبریز برمیگردد، سالهای 1342 هجری خورشیدی به بعد، چند سال پیشتر نیز خواستم نسخه ی روانشاد ادوارد فیتزجرالد را با نسخه های کهن موجود در اینترنت برابر نهم، و و برای خود پژوهشی کنم، شاید که گرهی گشوده شود؛ بیشتر نسخه ها را گرد آوردم، و صفحاتی چند از نسخه ی چاپ شده فیتز جرالد را نیز یافتم، سپس به نسخه های هدایت و دیگران پرداختم، هنوز هم گاه دستی بالا میزنم و چند خطی مینویسم ا شربیانی


  4. says:

    I kept thinking about the Rubaiyat last week while I was translating Zep's Happy Sex I understand that Fitzgerald's translation is extremely non literal and almost amounts to a new poem there is a nice piece by Borges discussing this unusual collaboration between two poets from different cultures and centuries But what are you supposed to do when you translate poetry? Literal translation seems pointless I had similar problems while trying to translate Zep's sexy French jokes If the result wasn't sexy or funny it seemed to me that I must have failedWell I've worked with machine translation for a while and I suddenly wondered if the theoretical framework it gives you makes it possible to explore these issues in a precise way Here's a Powerpoint slide showing the fundamental euation of statistical machine translation the techniue which for example powers Google TranslateWhat this says is that decoding translating amounts to finding words the e best which optimize the product of the translation model Pf|e and the language model Pe The translation model measures how likely it is that the translated words correspond to the original ones The language model measures how plausible the translated words are per seWhen translating literature the language model should presumably take into account the genre If you're translating a moving epic love poem the language model should measure the probability that a string of words is a moving epic love poem Similarly if you're translating a sexy joke it should measure the probability that a string of words is a sexy jokeThe problem is that there's a tension between the translation model and the language model If you optimize the translation model term and get a very literal translation you're going to be far from optimal on the language model term Now I'm thinking aloud here why is the problem so acute when you're translating literature? It seems to me that the answer lies in the unusually strong constraints associated with the demands of literary text Even reuiring a text string to be a sexy joke is a strong constraint Most literal translations though they may be grammatical and even idiomatic will have a low probability of being sexy jokes By accepting a lower value for Pf|e though you have a better chance of improving your score for Pe Your optimum tradeoff point is most likely going to have a lowish Pf|e and hence be fairly non literal Reuiring a text string to be a moving epic love poem is an exceptionally strong constraint The probability that a literal translation is going to meet this constraint is vanishingly small So the optimum tradeoff point will most likely have an even lower Pf|e and hence be even less literalAh my hands are getting tired from being waved around so much


  5. says:

    It is a flash from the stage of non belief to faithThere is no than a syllable between doubt and certaintyPrize this precious moment dearlyIt is our life's only fruit I had a palm size edition of Edward Fitzgerald's translation He changed his translation over the years and there are big differences between some of the different published editions Reading this the Avery translation was a shock because none of the verses were recognisable At first I found myself like Pnin hankering after a wayward translation because it had its own strange music Nobody has known anything better than sparkling wineSince the morning star and the moon graced the skyWine sellers astonish me becauseWhat can they buy better than what they sell? I'm not sure if Fitzgerald knew Persian but in any case Avery's intention was to write a literal translation Avery in the introduction is generous towards Fitzgerald's translation which is well known and much loved When it comes to translating poetry what the ill tempered might call inaccuracy can be creativity a reinvention of the original in an alien language which has its own foreign rhythm The year's caravan goes by swiftlySeize the cheerful momentWhy sorrow boy over tomorrow's grief for friends?Bring out the cup the night passes Rereading what struck me was how repetitive many of the verses were Some seem like variations of each other and the effect of reading them a little similar to reading Pascal's Pensées The themes are the impermanence of life the unknowability of the future and afterlife the enjoyment of the present moment and Dust Thou Art and Unto Dust Shalt Thou Return A pie chart illustrating Khayyam's poetic impulses would not need many slices How long shall I grieve for what I have or have notOver whether to pass my life in pleasure?Fill the wine bowl it is not certainThat I shall breathe out again the breath I now draw Khayyam was a mathematician astrologer and philosopher The attribution of verses to his name was made only after his death Some were also attributed to other writers and it seems that only one four line verse can be reliably thought to have actually been composed by Khayyam and this because Ata Malik Juvaini tells us that some of the survivors of the sack of Baghdad recited it in his history of the Mongol conuests I suppose our ignorance over the authorship only proves the poet's point about the impermanence of life These few odd days of life have passedLike water down the brook wind across the desert;There are two days I have never been plagued with regret forYesterday that has gone tomorrow that will come


  6. says:

    The Ruba'iyat of Omar Khayyam Omar Khayyám Edward FitzGerald TranslatorWritten 1120 ACE Omar Khayyam was born at Naishapur in Khorassan in the latter half of Eleventh Century and died within the First uarter of Twelfth Century I Wake For the Sun who scatter'd into flight The Stars before him from the Field of NightDrives Night along with them from Heav'n and strikes The Sultan's Turret with a Shaft of LightII Before the phantom of False morning diedMethought a Voice within the Tavern cried When all the Temple is prepared withinWhy nods the drowsy Worshipper outside? III And as the Cock crew those who stood beforeThe Tavern shouted Open then the DoorYou know how little while we have to stay And once departed may return no IV Now the New Year reviving old Desires The thoughtful Soul to Solitude retires Where the White Hand Of Moses on the BoughPuts out and Jesus from the Ground suspiresV Iram indeed is gone with all his Rose And Jamshyd's Sev'n ring'd Cup where no one knows; But still a Ruby kindles in the Vine And many a Garden by the Water blowsVI And David's lips are lockt; but in divine High piping Pehlevi with Wine Wine Wine Red Wine the Nightingale cries to the Rose That sallow cheek of hers t' incarnadine VII Come fill the Cup and in the fire of SpringYour Winter garment of Repentance fling The Bird of Time bas but a little way To flutter and the Bird is on the WingVIII Whether at Naishapur or Babylon Whether the Cup with sweet or bitter runThe Wine of Life keeps oozing drop by drop The Leaves of Life keep falling one by one IX Each Morn a thousand Roses brings you say;Yes but where leaves the Rose of Yesterday? And this first Summer month that brings the Rose Shall take Jamshyd and Kaikobad awayX Well let it take them What have we to do With Kaikobad the Great or Kaikhosru? Let Zal and Rustum bluster as they willOr Hatim call to Supper heed not you XI With me along the strip of Herbage strownThat just divides the desert from the sown Where name of Slave and Sultan is forgot And Peace to Mahmud on his golden Throne XII A Book of Verses underneath the Bough A Jug of Wine a Loaf of Bread and ThouBeside me singing in the Wilderness Oh Wilderness were Paradise enow XIII Some for the Glories of This World; and someSigh for the Prophet's Paradise to come; Ah take the Cash and let the Credit goNor heed the rumble of a distant DrumXIV Look to the blowing Rose about us Lo Laughing she says into the world I blow At once the silken tassel of my Purse Tear and its Treasure on the Garden throw XV And those who husbanded the Golden grainAnd those who flung it to the winds like Rain Alike to no such aureate Earth are turn'dAs buried once Men want dug up again XVI The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon Turns Ashes or it prospers; and anon Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty Face Lighting a little hour or two is gone XVII Think in this batter'd Caravanserai Whose Portals are alternate Night and Day How Sultan after Sultan with his Pomp Abode his destined Hour and went his wayXVIII They say the Lion and the Lizard keep The Courts where Jamshyd gloried and drank deep And Bahram that great Hunter the Wild AssStamps o'er his Head but cannot break his Sleep XIX I sometimes think that never blows so redThe Rose as where some buried Caesar bled; That every Hyacinth the Garden wears Dropt in her Lap from some once lovely Head XX And this reviving Herb whose tender Green Fledges the River Lip on which we lean Ah lean upon it lightly for who knows From what once lovely Lip it springs unseen XXI Ah my Belov'ed fill the Cup that clearsTo day Past Regrets and Future Fears To morrow Why To morrow I may be Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n Thousand YearsXXII For some we loved the loveliest and the best That from his Vintage rolling Time hath prestHave drunk their Cup a Round or two before And one by one crept silently to restXXIII And we that now make merry in the Room They left and Summer dresses in new bloom Ourselves must we beneath the Couch of EarthDescend ourselves to make a Couch for whom? XXIV Ah make the most of what we yet may spendBefore we too into the Dust descend; Dust into Dust and under Dust to lie Sans Wine sans Song sans Singer and sans EndXXV Alike for those who for To day prepare And those that after some To morrow stare A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness criesFools your Reward is neither Here nor There XXVI Why all the Saints and Sages who discuss'd Of the Two Worlds so wisely they are thrust Like foolish Prophets forth; their Words to Scorn Are scatter'd and their Mouths are stopt with DustXXVII Myself when young did eagerly freuent Doctor and Saint and heard great argumentAbout it and about but ever Came out by the same door where in I wentXXVIII With them the seed of Wisdom did I sow And with mine own hand wrought to make it grow; And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd I came like Water and like Wind I go 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 blowingXXX What without asking hither hurried Whence? And without asking Whither hurried henceOh many a Cup of this forbidden Wine Must drown the memory of that insolence XXXI Up from Earth's Centre through the Seventh Gate rose and on the Throne of Saturn sate; And many a Knot unravel'd by the Road; But not the Master knot of Human FateXXXII There was the Door to which I found no Key;There was the Veil through which I might not see Some little talk awhile of Me and Thee There was and then no of Thee and MeXXXIII Earth could not answer; nor the Seas that mourn In flowing Purple of their Lord forlorn;Nor rolling Heaven with all his Signs reveal'dAnd hidden by the sleeve of Night and Morn XXXIV Then of the Thee in Me works behind The Veil I lifted up my hands to find A Lamp amid the Darkness; and I heard As from Without The Me Within Thee Blind XXXV Then to the lip of this poor earthen UrnI lean'd the Secret of my Life to learnAnd Lip to Lip it murmur'd While you live Drink for once dead you never shall returnXXXVI I think the Vessel that with fugitive Articulation answer'd once did live And drink; and Ah the passive Lip I kiss'dHow many Kisses might it take and give XXXVII For I remember stopping by the way To watch a Potter thumping his wet Clay And with its all obliterated Tongue It murmur'd Gently Brother gently prayXXXVIII And has not such a Story from of Old Down Man's successive generations roll'dOf such a clod of saturated Earth Cast by the Maker into Human mould? XXXIX And not a drop that from our Cups we throwFor Earth to drink of but may steal below To uench the fire of Anguish in some Eye There hidden far beneath and long agoXL As then the Tulip for her morning sup Of Heav'nly Vintage from the soil looks up Do you devoutly do the like till Heav'n To Earth invert you like an empty CupXLI Perplext no with Human or Divine To morrow's tangle to the winds resign And lose your fingers in the tresses of The Cypress slender Minister of WineXLII And if the Wine you drink the Lip you pressEnd in what All begins and ends in Yes;Think then you are To day what Yesterday You were To morrow You shall not be less XLIII So when that Angel of the darker Drink At last shall find you by the river brinkAnd offering his Cup invite your Soul Forth to your Lips to uaff you shall not shrinkXLIV Why if the Soul can fling the Dust asideAnd naked on the Air of Heaven ride Were't not a Shame were't not a Shame for him In this clay carcase crippled to abide?XLV 'Tis but a Tent where takes his one day's rest A Sultan to the realm of Death addrest; The Sultan rises and the dark Ferrash Strikes and prepares it for another GuestXLVI And fear not lest Existence closing yourAccount and mine should know the like no ; The Eternal Saki from that Bowl has pour'dMillions of Bubbles like us and will pourXLVII When You and I behind the Veil are pastOh but the long long while the World shall last Which of our Coming and Departure heeds As the Sea's self should heed a pebble castXLVIII A Moment's Halt a momentary taste Of Being from the Well amid the Waste And Lo the phantom Caravan has reach'd The Nothing it set out from Oh make hasteXLIX Would you that spangle of Existence spendAbout the Secret uick about it FriendA Hair perhaps divides the False and True And upon what prithee may life depend? L A Hair perhaps divides the False and True;Yes; and a single Alif were the clue Could you but find it to the Treasure house And peradventure to The Master too;LI Whose secret Presence through Creation's veins Running uicksilver like eludes your pains; Taking all shapes from Mah to Mahi; and They change and perish all but He remains;LII A moment guess'd then back behind the Fold Immerst of Darkness round the Drama roll'd Which for the Pastime of Eternity He doth Himself contrive enact beholdLIII But if in vain down on the stubborn floor Of Earth and up to Heav'n's unopening DoorYou gaze To day while You are You how then To morrow You when shall be You no ? LIV Waste not your Hour nor in the vain pursuitOf This and That endeavour and dispute; Better be jocund with the fruitful GrapeThan sadden after none or bitter FruitLV You know my Friends with what a brave Carouse I made a Second Marriage in my house; Divorced old barren Reason from my Bed And took the Daughter of the Vine to Spouse LVI For Is and Is not though with Rule and Line And Up and Down by Logic I define Of all that one should care to fathom Was never deep in anything but WineLVII Ah but my Computations People say Reduced the Year to better reckoning? Nay 'Twas only striking from the Calendar Unborn To morrow and dead YesterdayLVIII And lately by the Tavern Door agape Came shining through the Dusk an Angel Shape Bearing a Vessel on his Shoulder; and He bid me taste of it; and 'twas the GrapeLIX The Grape that can with Logic absolute The Two and Seventy jarring Sects confuteThe sovereign Alchemist that in a trice Life's leaden metal into Gold transmute LX The mighty Mahmud Allah breathing Lord That all the misbelieving and black HordeOf Fears and Sorrows that infest the Soul Scatters before him with his whirlwind SwordLXI Why be this Juice the growth of God who dare Blaspheme the twisted tendril as a Snare? A Blessing we should use it should we not? And if a Curse why then Who set it there?LXII I must abjure the Balm of Life I must Scared by some After reckoning ta'en on trustOr lured with Hope of some Diviner DrinkTo fill the Cup when crumbled into DustLXIII Oh threats of Hell and Hopes of ParadiseOne thing at least is certain This Life flies; One thing is certain and the rest is Lies; The Flower that once has blown for ever diesLXIV Strange is it not? that of the myriads whoBefore us pass'd the door of Darkness through Not one returns to tell us of the Road Which to discover we must travel tooLXV The Revelations of Devout and Learn'd Who rose before us and as Prophets burn'd Are all but Stories which awoke from SleepThey told their comrades and to Sleep return'dLXVI I sent my Soul through the Invisible Some letter of that After life to spellAnd by and by my Soul return'd to me And answer'd I Myself am Heav'n and Hell LXVII Heav'n but the Vision of fulfill'd Desire And Hell the Shadow from a Soul on fireCast on the Darkness into which Ourselves So late emerged from shall so soon expire LXVIII We are no other than a moving row Of Magic Shadow shapes that come and go Round with the Sun illumined Lantern heldIn Midnight by the Master of the Show;LXIX But helpless Pieces of the Game He plays Upon this Cheuer board of Nights and Days;Hither and thither moves and checks and slays And one by one back in the Closet lays LXXThe Ball no uestion makes of Ayes and NoesBut Here or There as strikes the Player goes; And He that toss'd you down into the FieldHe knows about it all He knows HE knows LXXI The Moving Finger writes; and having writMoves on nor all your Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of itLXXII And that inverted Bowl they call the SkyWhereunder crawling coop'd we live and die Lift not your hands to It for help for ItAs impotently moves as you or ILXXIII With Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man knead And there of the Last Harvest sow'd the Seed And the first Morning of Creation wrote What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall readLXXIV Yesterday This Day's Madness did prepare;To morrow's Silence Triumph or DespairDrink for you know not whence you came nor why Drink for you know not why you go nor whereLXXV I tell you this When started from the Goal Over the flaming shoulders of the Foal Of Heav'n Parwin and Mushtari they flungIn my predestined Plot of Dust and SoulLXXVI The Vine had struck a fibre which about If clings my being let the Dervish flout; Of my Base metal may be filed a Key That shall unlock the Door he howls withoutLXXVII And this I know whether the one True LightKindle to Love or Wrath consume me uiteOne Flash of It within the Tavern caught Better than in the Temple lost outright LXXVIII What out of senseless Nothing to provokeA conscious Something to resent the yokeOf unpermitted Pleasure under pain Of Everlasting Penalties if brokeLXXIX What from his helpless Creature be repaidPure Gold for what he lent him dross allay'd Sue for a Debt he never did contract And cannot answer Oh the sorry tradeLXXX Oh Thou who didst with pitfall and with gin Beset the Road I was to wander in Thou wilt not with Predestined Evil roundEnmesh and then impute my Fall to SinLXXXI Oh Thou who Man of baser Earth didst makeAnd ev'n with Paradise devise the SnakeFor all the Sin wherewith the Face of Man Is blacken'd Man's forgiveness give and take LXXXII As under cover of departing Day Slunk hunger stricken Ramazan away Once within the Potter's house alone I stood surrounded by the Shapes of ClayLXXXIII Shapes of all Sorts and Sizes great and small That stood along the floor and by the wall; And some louacious Vessels were; and someListen'd perhaps but never talk'd at allLXXXIV Said one among them Surely not in vain My substance of the common Earth was ta'enAnd to this Figure moulded to be broke Or trampled back to shapeless Earth againLXXXV Then said a Second Ne'er a peevish Boy Would break the Bowl from which he drank in joy And He that with his hand the Vessel made Will surely not in after Wrath destroy LXXXVI After a momentary silence spake Some Vessel of a ungainly Make; They sneer at me for leaning all awryWhat did the Hand then of the Potter shake?LXXXVII Whereat some one of the louacious Lot I think a Sufi pipkin waxing hot All this of Pot and Potter Tell me then Who is the Potter pray and who the Pot?LXXXVIII Why said another Some there are who tell Of one who threatens he will toss to HellThe luckless Pots he marr'd in making Pish He's a Good Fellow and 'twill all be well LXXXIX Well Murmur'd one Let whoso make or buy My Clay with long Oblivion is gone dry But fill me with the old familiar juiceMethinks I might recover by and byXC So while the Vessels one by one were speaking The little Moon look'd in that all were seekingAnd then they jogg'd each other Brother Brother Now for the Porter's shoulder knot a creaking رباعیات خیام بر اساس نسخه محمدعلی فروغی؛ تاریخ نخستین خوانش این نسخه ماد فوریه سال 2004 میلادیظاهراً نخستین فردی که در ایران به فکر تعیین و تفکیک رباعیات اصیل خیام افتادند غلامرضا رشید یاسمی بودند ایشان در نسخه ی خیام خود که در سال 1303 هجری خورشیدی منتشر کردند، از بین سیصدوچهل رباعی منتسب به خیام، دویست و چهل رباعی را قابل قبول دانستند پس از ایشان روانشاد صادق هدایت نیز، در سال 1313 هجری خورشیدی نسخه‌ ای از رباعیات خیام را منتشر کردند نسخهٔ هدایت، با عنوان «ترانه‌ های خیام» شامل یکصدونوزده رباعی بود سپس در سال 1320 هجری خورشیدی روانشاد محمدعلی فروغی، با استفاده از منابع کهن، جُنگ‌ها، و سفینه‌ های کتابخانه‌ های ایران و ترکیه، نسخه‌ ای از رباعیات خیام را که شامل یکصدوهفتادوهشت رباعی منسوب به خیام بود، تهیه کردند در سال 1336 هجری خورشیدی نیز روانشاد «احمد شاملو» نسخه‌ ای از رباعیات خیام را که دارای یکصدوبیست و پنج رباعی است در کتابی با عنوان «ترانه‌ ها» ارائه کردند روانشاد «علی دشتی» نیز در سال 1344 هجری خورشیدی، در کتابی با عنوان «دمی با خیام»، هشادویک رباعی را «رباعیات حقیقی خیام» دانستند و بیست رباعی دیگر را «خیامانه» خواندند در سال 1385 هجری خورشیدی نیز کتاب «دایرهٔ سپهر»، شامل متن کامل رباعیات خیام، به تصحیح «جاوید مقدس صدقیانی» به چاپ رسید در دفترم، دوازده نسخه از این کتاب مستطاب، هنوز هم هست؛ برای همین است که مشخصات نسخه های چاپ شده را، در این ریویو نمیبینید، شمار چاپ و نشرها بسیار است، و نوشتن تکه ای از پاره های نشر نیز، دردی را از پژوهشگران، درمان نخواهد کرد، و نمیکند؛ تاریخ نخستین خوانش این فراموشکار از خیام دلآویز نیز، به دوره ی تحصیل در «دبیرستان فیوضات تبریز» این فراموشکار برمیگردد، سالهای 1342 هجری شمسی به بعد، چند سال پیشتر بود، که خواستم و برخاستم تا نسخه ی روانشاد «ادوارد فیتزجرالد» را، با نسخه های کهن موجود در اینترنت، برابر نهم، و برای خود پژوهشکی کنم، شاید که گرهی گشوده شود؛ بیشتر نسخه ها را گرد آوردم، و صفحاتی چند از نسخه ی چاپ شده ی «فیتز جرالد» را نیز یافتم، سپس به نسخه های «هدایت»، و دیگران پرداختم، هنوز هم گاه، دستی بالا میزنم، و چند خطی مینویسمجامی­ ست که عقل آفرین می­زندش، صد بوسه­ ی مهر، بر جبین می­زندشاین کوزه­ گر دهر چنین جام لطیف، می­سازد، و باز، برزمین می­زندشای کاش که جای آرمیدن بودی، یا این ره دور را رسیدن بودییا از پس صد هزار سال از دل خاک، چون سبزه امید بردمیدن بودیاین کوزه چو من عاشق زاری بوده ست، در بند سرِ زلفِ نگاری بوده ستاین دسته که بر گردن او میبینی، دستی ست که بر گردن یاری بودستهرچند که رنگ و روی، زیباست مرا، چون لاله، رخ و، چو سرو، بالاست مرامعلوم نشد، که در طربخانه ی خاک، نقاش ازل، بهر چه آراست مراا شربیانی


  7. says:

    A great Sufi poet Omar Khayyam has written in his Ruba’iyat his world famous collection of poetry I am going to drink to dance to love I am going to commit every kind of sin because I trust God is compassionate he will forgive My sins are very small; his forgiveness is immenseHe was a famous mathematician too renowned in his country Omar Khayyam's book was burned in his day Whenever a copy was found it was burned by the priests because this man was teaching such a dangerous idea One of the enlightened Sufi mystics what he is saying has immense truth in it He does not mean that you should commit sin Whatever you do if it is not right don't do it again If you feel it hurts somebody don't do it again The songs of Omar Khayyam were translated by Western writers but were not correctly understood Edward Fitzgerald who did an admirable rendering of Khayyam's songs was not a Sufi He took the word `wine' literally for example He also took the word `lover' literally and did the same with `wineshop' He read the Rubaiyat and tried to understand it with the help of a dictionary Omar Khayyam was a Sufi fakir a Sufi saint When he speaks of wine he is speaking of the wine about which Kabir is speaking ‘And I’m drunk with boundless youth’Omar Khayyam is speaking of this too The wineshop is the temple the lover is the master and the wine is none other than the wine of God Fitzgerald made a great mistake when he translated the songs of Omar Khayyam literally and many people in the West thought Khayyam was a drunkard and had written these songs in praise of wine Many adaptations of the Rubaiyat were made from these translations of Fitzgerald's and were published all over the world and so the wineshop of Omar Khayyam became world famous To understand a madman one must be mad so if you wish to understand an enlightened man you will have to become enlightened yourself The sign language used by a dumb person can only be understood by another who is dumb Fitzgerald did not realize this If Omar Khayyam were to return to the world he would not be so displeased with anyone as he would be with Edward Fitzgerald Fitzgerald made Khayyam's name famous throughout the world but he did it in a very wrong wayThe Ruba’iyat is one of the most misunderstood books in the whole world It is understood in its translation it is misunderstood in its spirit The translator could not bring the spirit to it Ruba’iyat is symbolic The Ruba’iyat talks of wine and women and nothing else; it sings of wine and women The translators and there are many are all wrong They are bound to be wrong because Omar Khayyam was a Sufi a man who knows When he talks of the woman he is talking about God That is the way Sufis address God Beloved O my beloved And they always use the feminine for God Nobody else in the world in the whole history of humanity has addressed God as a woman Only Sufis address God as the beloved And the 'wine' is that which happens between the lover and the beloved it has nothing to do with grapes The alchemy which happens between the lover and the beloved between the disciple and the master between the seeker and the sought between the worshipper and his God the alchemy The transmutation that is the wine Ruba’iyat is so misunderstood“Drink wine that is life everlastingThe source of youthful delight;It burns like fire but puts an end to griefIt’s like the water of life drink it”


  8. says:

    The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám is the title that Edward FitzGerald gave to his translation of a selection of poems originally written in Persian and numbering about a thousand attributed to Omar Khayyám 1048–1131 a Persian poet mathematician and astronomer A Ruba'i is a two line stanza with two parts or hemstitch per line hence the word rubáiyát derived from the Arabic language root for Four meaning uatrains IWake For the Sun who scatter'd into flightThe Stars before him from the Field of NightDrives Night along with them from Heav'n and strikesThe Sultan's Turret with a Shaft of LightIIBefore the phantom of False morning diedMethought a Voice within the Tavern criedWhen all the Temple is prepared withinWhy nods the drowsy Worshipper outside?IIIAnd as the Cock crew those who stood beforeThe Tavern shouted Open then the DoorYou know how little while we have to stayAnd once departed may return no IVNow the New Year reviving old DesiresThe thoughtful Soul to Solitude retiresWhere the White Hand Of Moses on the BoughPuts out and Jesus from the Ground suspiresVIram indeed is gone with all his RoseAnd Jamshyd's Sev'n ring'd Cup where no one knows;But still a Ruby kindles in the VineAnd many a Garden by the Water blowsVIAnd David's lips are lockt; but in divineHigh piping Pehlevi with Wine Wine WineRed Wine the Nightingale cries to the RoseThat sallow cheek of hers t' incarnadineVIICome fill the Cup and in the fire of SpringYour Winter garment of Repentance flingThe Bird of Time bas but a little wayTo flutter and the Bird is on the WingVIIIWhether at Naishapur or BabylonWhether the Cup with sweet or bitter runThe Wine of Life keeps oozing drop by dropThe Leaves of Life keep falling one by oneIXEach Morn a thousand Roses brings you say;Yes but where leaves the Rose of Yesterday?And this first Summer month that brings the RoseShall take Jamshyd and Kaikobad awayXWell let it take them What have we to doWith Kaikobad the Great or Kaikhosru?Let Zal and Rustum bluster as they willOr Hatim call to Supper heed not youXIWith me along the strip of Herbage strownThat just divides the desert from the sownWhere name of Slave and Sultan is forgot And Peace to Mahmud on his golden ThroneXIIA Book of Verses underneath the BoughA Jug of Wine a Loaf of Bread and ThouBeside me singing in the Wilderness Oh Wilderness were Paradise enowXIIISome for the Glories of This World; and someSigh for the Prophet's Paradise to come;Ah take the Cash and let the Credit goNor heed the rumble of a distant DrumXIVLook to the blowing Rose about us LoLaughing she says into the world I blowAt once the silken tassel of my PurseTear and its Treasure on the Garden throwXVAnd those who husbanded the Golden grainAnd those who flung it to the winds like RainAlike to no such aureate Earth are turn'dAs buried once Men want dug up againXVIThe Worldly Hope men set their Hearts uponTurns Ashes or it prospers; and anonLike Snow upon the Desert's dusty FaceLighting a little hour or two is goneXVIIThink in this batter'd CaravanseraiWhose Portals are alternate Night and DayHow Sultan after Sultan with his PompAbode his destined Hour and went his wayXVIIIThey say the Lion and the Lizard keepThe Courts where Jamshyd gloried and drank deepAnd Bahram that great Hunter the Wild AssStamps o'er his Head but cannot break his SleepXIXI sometimes think that never blows so redThe Rose as where some buried Caesar bled;That every Hyacinth the Garden wearsDropt in her Lap from some once lovely HeadXXAnd this reviving Herb whose tender GreenFledges the River Lip on which we lean Ah lean upon it lightly for who knowsFrom what once lovely Lip it springs unseenXXIAh my Belov'ed fill the Cup that clearsTo day Past Regrets and Future FearsTo morrow Why To morrow I may beMyself with Yesterday's Sev'n Thousand YearsXXIIFor some we loved the loveliest and the bestThat from his Vintage rolling Time hath prestHave drunk their Cup a Round or two beforeAnd one by one crept silently to restXXIIIAnd we that now make merry in the RoomThey left and Summer dresses in new bloomOurselves must we beneath the Couch of EarthDescend ourselves to make a Couch for whom?XXIVAh make the most of what we yet may spendBefore we too into the Dust descend;Dust into Dust and under Dust to lieSans Wine sans Song sans Singer and sans EndXXVAlike for those who for To day prepareAnd those that after some To morrow stareA Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness criesFools your Reward is neither Here nor ThereXXVIWhy all the Saints and Sages who discuss'dOf the Two Worlds so wisely they are thrustLike foolish Prophets forth; their Words to ScornAre scatter'd and their Mouths are stopt with DustXXVIIMyself when young did eagerly freuentDoctor and Saint and heard great argumentAbout it and about but everCame out by the same door where in I wentXXVIIIWith them the seed of Wisdom did I sowAnd with mine own hand wrought to make it grow;And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd I came like Water and like Wind I goXXIXInto this Universe and Why not knowingNor Whence like Water willy nilly flowing;And out of it as Wind along the WasteI know not Whither willy nilly blowingXXXWhat without asking hither hurried Whence?And without asking Whither hurried henceOh many a Cup of this forbidden WineMust drown the memory of that insolenceXXXIUp from Earth's Centre through the Seventh Gaterose and on the Throne of Saturn sate;And many a Knot unravel'd by the Road;But not the Master knot of Human FateXXXIIThere was the Door to which I found no Key;There was the Veil through which I might not seeSome little talk awhile of Me and TheeThere was and then no of Thee and MeXXXIIIEarth could not answer; nor the Seas that mournIn flowing Purple of their Lord forlorn;Nor rolling Heaven with all his Signs reveal'dAnd hidden by the sleeve of Night and MornXXXIVThen of the Thee in Me works behindThe Veil I lifted up my hands to findA Lamp amid the Darkness; and I heardAs from Without The Me Within Thee BlindXXXVThen to the lip of this poor earthen UrnI lean'd the Secret of my Life to learnAnd Lip to Lip it murmur'd While you liveDrink for once dead you never shall returnXXXVII think the Vessel that with fugitiveArticulation answer'd once did liveAnd drink; and Ah the passive Lip I kiss'dHow many Kisses might it take and giveXXXVIIFor I remember stopping by the wayTo watch a Potter thumping his wet ClayAnd with its all obliterated TongueIt murmur'd Gently Brother gently prayXXXVIIIAnd has not such a Story from of OldDown Man's successive generations roll'dOf such a clod of saturated EarthCast by the Maker into Human mould?XXXIXAnd not a drop that from our Cups we throwFor Earth to drink of but may steal belowTo uench the fire of Anguish in some EyeThere hidden far beneath and long agoXLAs then the Tulip for her morning supOf Heav'nly Vintage from the soil looks upDo you devoutly do the like till Heav'nTo Earth invert you like an empty CupXLIPerplext no with Human or DivineTo morrow's tangle to the winds resignAnd lose your fingers in the tresses ofThe Cypress slender Minister of WineXLIIAnd if the Wine you drink the Lip you pressEnd in what All begins and ends in Yes;Think then you are To day what YesterdayYou were To morrow You shall not be lessXLIIISo when that Angel of the darker DrinkAt last shall find you by the river brinkAnd offering his Cup invite your SoulForth to your Lips to uaff you shall not shrinkXLIVWhy if the Soul can fling the Dust asideAnd naked on the Air of Heaven rideWere't not a Shame were't not a Shame for himIn this clay carcase crippled to abide?XLV'Tis but a Tent where takes his one day's restA Sultan to the realm of Death addrest;The Sultan rises and the dark FerrashStrikes and prepares it for another GuestXLVIAnd fear not lest Existence closing yourAccount and mine should know the like no ;The Eternal Saki from that Bowl has pour'dMillions of Bubbles like us and will pourXLVIIWhen You and I behind the Veil are pastOh but the long long while the World shall lastWhich of our Coming and Departure heedsAs the Sea's self should heed a pebble castXLVIIIA Moment's Halt a momentary tasteOf Being from the Well amid the Waste And Lo the phantom Caravan has reach'dThe Nothing it set out from Oh make hasteXLIXWould you that spangle of Existence spendAbout the Secret uick about it FriendA Hair perhaps divides the False and True And upon what prithee may life depend?LA Hair perhaps divides the False and True;Yes; and a single Alif were the clue Could you but find it to the Treasure houseAnd peradventure to The Master too;LIWhose secret Presence through Creation's veinsRunning uicksilver like eludes your pains;Taking all shapes from Mah to Mahi; andThey change and perish all but He remains;LIIA moment guess'd then back behind the FoldImmerst of Darkness round the Drama roll'dWhich for the Pastime of EternityHe doth Himself contrive enact beholdLIIIBut if in vain down on the stubborn floorOf Earth and up to Heav'n's unopening DoorYou gaze To day while You are You how thenTo morrow You when shall be You no ?LIVWaste not your Hour nor in the vain pursuitOf This and That endeavour and dispute;Better be jocund with the fruitful GrapeThan sadden after none or bitter FruitLVYou know my Friends with what a brave CarouseI made a Second Marriage in my house;Divorced old barren Reason from my BedAnd took the Daughter of the Vine to SpouseLVIFor Is and Is not though with Rule and LineAnd Up and Down by Logic I defineOf all that one should care to fathomWas never deep in anything but WineLVIIAh but my Computations People sayReduced the Year to better reckoning? Nay'Twas only striking from the CalendarUnborn To morrow and dead YesterdayLVIIIAnd lately by the Tavern Door agapeCame shining through the Dusk an Angel ShapeBearing a Vessel on his Shoulder; andHe bid me taste of it; and 'twas the GrapeLIXThe Grape that can with Logic absoluteThe Two and Seventy jarring Sects confuteThe sovereign Alchemist that in a triceLife's leaden metal into Gold transmuteLXThe mighty Mahmud Allah breathing LordThat all the misbelieving and black HordeOf Fears and Sorrows that infest the SoulScatters before him with his whirlwind SwordLXIWhy be this Juice the growth of God who dareBlaspheme the twisted tendril as a Snare?A Blessing we should use it should we not?And if a Curse why then Who set it there?LXIII must abjure the Balm of Life I mustScared by some After reckoning ta'en on trustOr lured with Hope of some Diviner DrinkTo fill the Cup when crumbled into DustLXIIIOh threats of Hell and Hopes of ParadiseOne thing at least is certain This Life flies;One thing is certain and the rest is Lies;The Flower that once has blown for ever diesLXIVStrange is it not? that of the myriads whoBefore us pass'd the door of Darkness throughNot one returns to tell us of the RoadWhich to discover we must travel tooLXVThe Revelations of Devout and Learn'dWho rose before us and as Prophets burn'dAre all but Stories which awoke from SleepThey told their comrades and to Sleep return'dLXVII sent my Soul through the InvisibleSome letter of that After life to spellAnd by and by my Soul return'd to meAnd answer'd I Myself am Heav'n and HellLXVIIHeav'n but the Vision of fulfill'd DesireAnd Hell the Shadow from a Soul on fireCast on the Darkness into which OurselvesSo late emerged from shall so soon expireLXVIIIWe are no other than a moving rowOf Magic Shadow shapes that come and goRound with the Sun illumined Lantern heldIn Midnight by the Master of the Show;LXIXBut helpless Pieces of the Game He playsUpon this Cheuer board of Nights and Days;Hither and thither moves and checks and slaysAnd one by one back in the Closet laysLXXThe Ball no uestion makes of Ayes and NoesBut Here or There as strikes the Player goes;And He that toss'd you down into the FieldHe knows about it all He knows HE knowsLXXIThe Moving Finger writes; and having writMoves on nor all your Piety nor WitShall lure it back to cancel half a LineNor all your Tears wash out a Word of itLXXIIAnd that inverted Bowl they call the SkyWhereunder crawling coop'd we live and dieLift not your hands to It for help for ItAs impotently moves as you or ILXXIIIWith Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man kneadAnd there of the Last Harvest sow'd the SeedAnd the first Morning of Creation wroteWhat the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall readLXXIVYesterday This Day's Madness did prepare;To morrow's Silence Triumph or DespairDrink for you know not whence you came nor whyDrink for you know not why you go nor whereLXXVI tell you this When started from the GoalOver the flaming shoulders of the FoalOf Heav'n Parwin and Mushtari they flungIn my predestined Plot of Dust and Soulتاریخ نخستین خوانش این نسخه ماد فوریه سال 2004 میلادیعنوان رباعيات خيام؛ شاعر عمر خیام؛ تصحیح محمدعلی فروغی؛ قاسم غنی؛در دفترم، دوازده نسخه از این کتاب مستطاب، هنوز هم هست؛ برای همین است که مشخصات نسخه های چاپ شده را، در این ریویو نمیبینید، بسیار زیاد است، و نوشتن تکه ای از پاره های نشر نیز، دردی را از پژوهشگران، درمان نخواهد کرد، و نمیکند؛ تاریخ نخستین خوانش این فراموشکار از خیام دلآویز نیز، به دوره ی دبیرستان فیوضات تبریز برمیگردد، سالهای 1342 هجری شمسی به بعد، چند سال پیشتر، خواستم نسخه ی روانشاد ادوارد فیتزجرالد را، با نسخه های کهن موجود در اینترنت، برابر نهم، و و برای خود پژوهشی کنم، شاید که گرهی گشوده شود؛ بیشتر نسخه ها را گرد آوردم، و صفحاتی چند از نسخه ی چاپ شده ی فیتز جرالد را نیز یافتم، سپس به نسخه های هدایت، و دیگران پرداختم، هنوز هم گاه، دستی بالا میزنم، و چند خطی مینویسمجامی­ ست که عقل آفرین می­زندش، صد بوسه­ ی مهر، بر جبین می­زندشاین کوزه­ گر دهر چنین جام لطیف، می­سازد، و باز، برزمین می­زندشای کاش که جای آرمیدن بودی، یا این ره دور را رسیدن بودییا از پس صد هزار سال از دل خاک، چون سبزه امید بردمیدن بودیاین کوزه چو من عاشق زاری بوده ست، در بند سر زلف نگاری بوده ستاین دسته که بر گردن او می بینی، دستی است که بر گردن یاری بودستهرچند که رنگ و روی زیباست مرا، چون لاله رخ و چو سرو بالاست مرامعلوم نشد که در طربخانه ی خاک، نقاش ازل بهر چه آراست مراخیاما شربیانی


  9. says:

    In 1942 when my father was in the South Pacific he asked for only one thing for Christmasthis book of poetry My mother sent it to him with an inscription in the frontispiece which spoke wistfully of days to come Later he sent her a photo of him reading this book leaning back on a palm tree with a bottle of wine and a loaf of bread on the cloth beside himon the back of the photo he wrote all I'm missing is thouObviously this book is a family treasure and I cannot read it without remembering my parent's great love affairCome 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 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


  10. says:

    I feel a bit awkward reviewing a book this short so I’ll keep my review short as well There are some very fine verses here especially good to read before a night of drunken foolery Although FitzGerald’s translation is known for being somewhat inaccurate I wouldn’t even consider trading it for a scrupulous edition Instead why not view the poems as an artistic collaboration between two great poets across time and space? When small minded tin eared scholarsTake a look at his verse and hollerWhy what grave and fatal inaccuraciesResist the urge to grab them by the collarWhen pencil pushing professors sneer“FitzGerald’s version does not adhereTo the original Persian manuscript here”Pat them on the back and have another beer


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رباعیات خیام

Summary رباعیات خیام

حياة البشر، دون تمايز بين طبقات المجتمع، من عالمها إلى عاميها، ومن ثريها إلى فقيرها، فالجميع يشتاق إلى معرفة مصيره ومثواه وخالقه وجدوى حيات?. The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám is the title that Edward FitzGerald gave to his translation of a selection of poems originally written in Persian and numbering about a thousand attributed to Omar Khayyám 1048–1131 a Persian poet mathematician and astronomer A Ruba'i is a two line stanza with two parts or hemstitch per line hence the word rubáiyát derived from the Arabic language root for Four meaning uatrains IWake For the Sun who scatter'd into flightThe Stars before him from the Field of NightDrives Night along with them from Heav'n and strikesThe Sultan's Turret with a Shaft of LightIIBefore the phantom of False morning diedMethought a Voice within the Tavern criedWhen all the Temple is prepared withinWhy nods the drowsy Worshipper outsideIIIAnd as the Cock crew those who stood beforeThe Tavern shouted Open then the DoorYou know how little while we have to stayAnd once departed may return no IVNow the New Year reviving old DesiresThe thoughtful Soul to Solitude retiresWhere the White Hand Of Moses on the BoughPuts out and Jesus from the Ground suspiresVIram indeed is gone with all his RoseAnd Jamshyd's Sev'n ring'd Cup where no one knows;But still a Ruby kindles in the VineAnd many a Garden by the Water blowsVIAnd David's lips are lockt; but in divineHigh piping Pehlevi with Wine Wine WineRed Wine the Nightingale cries to the RoseThat sallow cheek of hers t' incarnadineVIICome fill the Cup and in the fire of SpringYour Winter garment of Repentance flingThe Bird of Time bas but a little wayTo flutter and the Bird is on the WingVIIIWhether at Naishapur or BabylonWhether the Cup with sweet or bitter runThe Wine of Life keeps oozing drop by dropThe Leaves of Life keep falling one by oneIXEach Morn a thousand Roses brings you say;Yes but where leaves the Rose of YesterdayAnd this first Summer month that brings the RoseShall take Jamshyd and Kaikobad awayXWell let it take them What have we to doWith Kaikobad the Great or KaikhosruLet Zal and Rustum bluster as they willOr Hatim call to Supper heed not youXIWith me along the strip of Herbage strownThat just divides the desert from the sownWhere name of Slave and Sultan is forgot And Peace to Mahmud on his golden ThroneXIIA Book of Verses underneath the BoughA Jug of Wine a Loaf of Bread and ThouBeside me singing in the Wilderness Oh Wilderness were Paradise enowXIIISome for the Glories of This World; and someSigh for the Prophet's Paradise to come;Ah take the Cash and let the Credit goNor heed the rumble of a distant DrumXIVLook to the blowing Rose about us LoLaughing she says into the world I blowAt once the silken tassel of my PurseTear and its Treasure on the Garden throwXVAnd those who husbanded the Golden grainAnd those who flung it to the winds like RainAlike to no such aureate Earth are turn'dAs buried once Men want dug up againXVIThe Worldly Hope men set their Hearts uponTurns Ashes or it prospers; and anonLike Snow upon the Desert's dusty FaceLighting a little hour or two is goneXVIIThink in this batter'd CaravanseraiWhose Portals are alternate Night and DayHow Sultan after Sultan with his PompAbode his destined Hour and went his wayXVIIIThey say the Lion and the Lizard keepThe Courts where Jamshyd gloried and drank deepAnd Bahram that great Hunter the Wild AssStamps o'er his Head but cannot break his SleepXIXI sometimes think that never blows so redThe Rose as where some buried Caesar bled;That every Hyacinth the Garden wearsDropt in her Lap from some once lovely HeadXXAnd this reviving Herb whose tender GreenFledges the River Lip on which we lean Ah lean upon it lightly for who knowsFrom what once lovely Lip it springs unseenXXIAh my Belov'ed fill the Cup that clearsTo day Past Regrets and Future FearsTo morrow Why To morrow I may beMyself with Yesterday's Sev'n Thousand YearsXXIIFor some we loved the loveliest and the bestThat from his Vintage rolling Time hath prestHave drunk their Cup a Round or two beforeAnd one by one crept silently to restXXIIIAnd we that now make merry in the RoomThey left and Summer dresses in new bloomOurselves must we beneath the Couch of EarthDescend ourselves to make a Couch for whomXXIVAh make the most of what we yet may spendBefore we too into the Dust descend;Dust into Dust and under Dust to lieSans Wine sans Song sans Singer and sans EndXXVAlike for those who for To day prepareAnd those that after some To morrow stareA Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness criesFools your Reward is neither Here nor ThereXXVIWhy all the Saints and Sages who discuss'dOf the Two Worlds so wisely they are thrustLike foolish Prophets forth; their Words to ScornAre scatter'd and their Mouths are stopt with DustXXVIIMyself when young did eagerly freuentDoctor and Saint and heard great argumentAbout it and about but everCame out by the same door where in I wentXXVIIIWith them the seed of Wisdom did I sowAnd with mine own hand wrought to make it grow;And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd I came like Water and like Wind I goXXIXInto this Universe and Why not knowingNor Whence like Water willy nilly flowing;And out of it as Wind along the WasteI know not Whither willy nilly blowingXXXWhat without asking hither hurried WhenceAnd without asking Whither hurried henceOh many a Cup of this forbidden WineMust drown the memory of that insolenceXXXIUp from Earth's Centre through the Seventh Gaterose and on the Throne of Saturn sate;And many a Knot unravel'd by the Road;But not the Master knot of Human FateXXXIIThere was the Door to which I found no Key;There was the Veil through which I might not seeSome little talk awhile of Me and TheeThere was and then no of Thee and MeXXXIIIEarth could not answer; nor the Seas that mournIn flowing Purple of their Lord forlorn;Nor rolling Heaven with all his Signs reveal'dAnd hidden by the sleeve of Night and MornXXXIVThen of the Thee in Me works behindThe Veil I lifted up my hands to findA Lamp amid the Darkness; and I heardAs from Without The Me Within Thee BlindXXXVThen to the lip of this poor earthen UrnI lean'd the Secret of my Life to learnAnd Lip to Lip it murmur'd While you liveDrink for once dead you never shall returnXXXVII think the Vessel that with fugitiveArticulation answer'd once did liveAnd drink; and Ah the passive Lip I kiss'dHow many Kisses might it take and giveXXXVIIFor I remember stopping by the wayTo watch a Potter thumping his wet ClayAnd with its all obliterated TongueIt murmur'd Gently Brother gently prayXXXVIIIAnd has not such a Story from of OldDown Man's successive generations roll'dOf such a clod of saturated EarthCast by the Maker into Human mouldXXXIXAnd not a drop that from our Cups we throwFor Earth to drink of but may steal belowTo uench the fire of Anguish in some EyeThere hidden far beneath and long agoXLAs then the Tulip for her morning supOf Heav'nly Vintage from the soil looks upDo you devoutly do the like till Heav'nTo Earth invert you like an empty CupXLIPerplext no with Human or DivineTo morrow's tangle to the winds resignAnd lose your fingers in the tresses ofThe Cypress slender Minister of WineXLIIAnd if the Wine you drink the Lip you pressEnd in what All begins and ends in Yes;Think then you are To day what YesterdayYou were To morrow You shall not be lessXLIIISo when that Angel of the darker DrinkAt last shall find you by the river brinkAnd offering his Cup invite your SoulForth to your Lips to uaff you shall not shrinkXLIVWhy if the Soul can fling the Dust asideAnd naked on the Air of Heaven rideWere't not a Shame were't not a Shame for himIn this clay carcase crippled to abideXLV'Tis but a Tent where takes his one day's restA Sultan to the realm of Death addrest;The Sultan rises and the dark FerrashStrikes and prepares it for another GuestXLVIAnd fear not lest Existence closing yourAccount and mine should know the like no ;The Eternal Saki from that Bowl has pour'dMillions of Bubbles like us and will pourXLVIIWhen You and I behind the Veil are pastOh but the long long while the World shall lastWhich of our Coming and Departure heedsAs the Sea's self should heed a pebble castXLVIIIA Moment's Halt a momentary tasteOf Being from the Well amid the Waste And Lo the phantom Caravan has reach'dThe Nothing it set out from Oh make hasteXLIXWould you that spangle of Existence spendAbout the Secret uick about it FriendA Hair perhaps divides the False and True And upon what prithee may life dependLA Hair perhaps divides the False and True;Yes; and a single Alif were the clue Could you but find it to the Treasure houseAnd peradventure to The Master too;LIWhose secret Presence through Creation's veinsRunning uicksilver like eludes your pains;Taking all shapes from Mah to Mahi; andThey change and perish all but He remains;LIIA moment guess'd then back behind the FoldImmerst of Darkness round the Drama roll'dWhich for the Pastime of EternityHe doth Himself contrive enact beholdLIIIBut if in vain down on the stubborn floorOf Earth and up to Heav'n's unopening DoorYou gaze To day while You are You how thenTo morrow You when shall be You no LIVWaste not your Hour nor in the vain pursuitOf This and That endeavour and dispute;Better be jocund with the fruitful GrapeThan sadden after none or bitter FruitLVYou know my Friends with what a brave CarouseI made a Second Marriage in my house;Divorced old barren Reason from my BedAnd took the Daughter of the Vine to SpouseLVIFor Is and Is not though with Rule and LineAnd Up and Down by Logic I defineOf all that one should care to fathomWas never deep in anything but WineLVIIAh but my Computations People sayReduced the Year to better reckoning Nay'Twas only striking from the CalendarUnborn To morrow and dead YesterdayLVIIIAnd lately by the Tavern Door agapeCame shining through the Dusk an Angel ShapeBearing a Vessel on his Shoulder; andHe bid me taste of it; and 'twas the GrapeLIXThe Grape that can with Logic absoluteThe Two and Seventy jarring Sects confuteThe sovereign Alchemist that in a triceLife's leaden metal into Gold transmuteLXThe mighty Mahmud Allah breathing LordThat all the misbelieving and black HordeOf Fears and Sorrows that infest the SoulScatters before him with his whirlwind SwordLXIWhy be this Juice the growth of God who dareBlaspheme the twisted tendril as a SnareA Blessing we should use it should we notAnd if a Curse why then Who set it thereLXIII must abjure the Balm of Life I mustScared by some After reckoning ta'en on trustOr lured with Hope of some Diviner DrinkTo fill the Cup when crumbled into DustLXIIIOh threats of Hell and Hopes of ParadiseOne thing at least is certain This Life flies;One thing is certain and the rest is Lies;The Flower that once has blown for ever diesLXIVStrange is it not that of the myriads whoBefore us pass'd the door of Darkness throughNot one returns to tell us of the RoadWhich to discover we must travel tooLXVThe Revelations of Devout and Learn'dWho rose before us and as Prophets burn'dAre all but Stories which awoke from SleepThey told their comrades and to Sleep return'dLXVII sent my Soul through the InvisibleSome letter of that After life to spellAnd by and by my Soul return'd to meAnd answer'd I Myself am Heav'n and HellLXVIIHeav'n but the Vision of fulfill'd DesireAnd Hell the Shadow from a Soul on fireCast on the Darkness into which OurselvesSo late emerged from shall so soon expireLXVIIIWe are no other than a moving rowOf Magic Shadow shapes that come and goRound with the Sun illumined Lantern heldIn Midnight by the Master of the Show;LXIXBut helpless Pieces of the Game He playsUpon this Cheuer board of Nights and Days;Hither and thither moves and checks and slaysAnd one by one back in the Closet laysLXXThe Ball no uestion makes of Ayes and NoesBut Here or There as strikes the Player goes;And He that toss'd you down into the FieldHe knows about it all He knows HE knowsLXXIThe Moving Finger writes; and having writMoves on nor all your Piety nor WitShall lure it back to cancel half a LineNor all your Tears wash out a Word of itLXXIIAnd that inverted Bowl they call the SkyWhereunder crawling coop'd we live and dieLift not your hands to It for help for ItAs impotently moves as you or ILXXIIIWith Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man kneadAnd there of the Last Harvest sow'd the SeedAnd the first Morning of Creation wroteWhat the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall readLXXIVYesterday This Day's Madness did prepare;To morrow's Silence Triumph or DespairDrink for you know not whence you came nor whyDrink for you know not why you go nor whereLXXVI tell you this When started from the GoalOver the flaming shoulders of the FoalOf Heav'n Parwin and Mushtari they flungIn my predestined Plot of Dust and Soulتاریخ نخستین خوانش این نسخه ماد فوریه سال 2004 میلادیعنوان رباعيات خيام؛ شاعر عمر خیام؛ تصحیح محمدعلی فروغی؛ قاسم غنی؛در دفترم، دوازده نسخه از این کتاب مستطاب، هنوز هم هست؛ برای همین است که مشخصات نسخه های چاپ شده را، در این ریویو نمیبینید، بسیار زیاد است، و نوشتن تکه ای از پاره های نشر نیز، دردی را از پژوهشگران، درمان نخواهد کرد، و نمیکند؛ تاریخ نخستین خوانش این فراموشکار از خیام دلآویز نیز، به دوره ی دبیرستان فیوضات تبریز برمیگردد، سالهای 1342 هجری شمسی به بعد، چند سال پیشتر، خواستم نسخه ی روانشاد ادوارد فیتزجرالد را، با نسخه های کهن موجود در اینترنت، برابر نهم، و و برای خود پژوهشی کنم، شاید که گرهی گشوده شود؛ بیشتر نسخه ها را گرد آوردم، و صفحاتی چند از نسخه ی چاپ شده ی فیتز جرالد را نیز یافتم، سپس به نسخه های هدایت، و دیگران پرداختم، هنوز هم گاه، دستی بالا میزنم، و چند خطی مینویسمجامی­ ست که عقل آفرین می­زندش، صد بوسه­ ی مهر، بر جبین می­زندشاین کوزه­ گر دهر چنین جام لطیف، می­سازد، و باز، برزمین می­زندشای کاش که جای آرمیدن بودی، یا این ره دور را رسیدن بودییا از پس صد هزار سال از دل خاک، چون سبزه امید بردمیدن بودیاین کوزه چو من عاشق زاری بوده ست، در بند سر زلف نگاری بوده ستاین دسته که بر گردن او می بینی، دستی است که بر گردن یاری بودستهرچند که رنگ و روی زیباست مرا، چون لاله رخ و چو سرو بالاست مرامعلوم نشد که در طربخانه ی خاک، نقاش ازل بهر چه آراست مراخیاما شربیانی He Will Be My Ruin of Omar Khayyám is the title that Edward FitzGerald gave to his translation The Path of Stones - A Victorian Romance of a selection Prairie Promises of poems How to Declutter Your Home Fast in 7 Easy Steps originally written in Persian and numbering about a thousand attributed to Omar Khayyám 1048–1131 a Persian poet mathematician and astronomer A Ruba'i is a two line stanza with two parts Ani-Max, Volume 1 or hemstitch per line hence the word rubáiyát derived from the Arabic language root for Four meaning uatrains IWake For the Sun who scatter'd into flightThe Stars before him from the Field Close to My Heart of NightDrives Night along with them from Heav'n and strikesThe Sultan's Turret with a Shaft Love Notes (Love of LightIIBefore the phantom Dave Ramsey Desk Calendar of False morning diedMethought a Voice within the Tavern criedWhen all the Temple is prepared withinWhy nods the drowsy Worshipper Remember outsideIIIAnd as the Cock crew those who stood beforeThe Tavern shouted Open then the DoorYou know how little while we have to stayAnd Photonic Integrated Circuits once departed may return no IVNow the New Year reviving The Presidents Killers old DesiresThe thoughtful Soul to Solitude retiresWhere the White Hand Of Moses Vengeance on the BoughPuts Moonset (Legacy of Moonset, out and Jesus from the Ground suspiresVIram indeed is gone with all his RoseAnd Jamshyd's Sev'n ring'd Cup where no Hes the One one knows;But still a Ruby kindles in the VineAnd many a Garden by the Water blowsVIAnd David's lips are lockt; but in divineHigh piping Pehlevi with Wine Wine WineRed Wine the Nightingale cries to the RoseThat sallow cheek Murder in White Lace (Bridal Shop Mystery, of hers t' incarnadineVIICome fill the Cup and in the fire Jimmy Dicks International Eats of SpringYour Winter garment Lightning in the Dark (Turning Creek, of Repentance flingThe Bird Der Architekt. Без иллюзий of Time bas but a little wayTo flutter and the Bird is Nina Simone on the WingVIIIWhether at Naishapur Fontainebleau: 100 ans d'escalade or BabylonWhether the Cup with sweet Ingenjör Andrées luftfärd or bitter runThe Wine Temporary Bliss (Bliss, of Life keeps Pliny (Loeb Classical Library No. 418) oozing drop by dropThe Leaves Snows Heat of Life keep falling Linea di sangue one by Secondary Break oneIXEach Morn a thousand Roses brings you say;Yes but where leaves the Rose The Little Book of YesterdayAnd this first Summer month that brings the RoseShall take Jamshyd and Kaikobad awayXWell let it take them What have we to doWith Kaikobad the Great Rome in Ireland or KaikhosruLet Zal and Rustum bluster as they willOr Hatim call to Supper heed not youXIWith me along the strip The Sharing Knife of Herbage strownThat just divides the desert from the sownWhere name Serpent of the Shangrove (Darkspires of Slave and Sultan is forgot And Peace to Mahmud La maldición del maestro (Crónicas de la torre, on his golden ThroneXIIA Book Eye of the Mountain God of Verses underneath the BoughA Jug Black Hills Blessing (Black Hills Blessing of Wine a Loaf La rosa of Bread and ThouBeside me singing in the Wilderness Oh Wilderness were Paradise enowXIIISome for the Glories La Nueva Música Clásica of This World; and someSigh for the Prophet's Paradise to come;Ah take the Cash and let the Credit goNor heed the rumble Cry for me Argentina of a distant DrumXIVLook to the blowing Rose about us LoLaughing she says into the world I blowAt Defending Our Lives once the silken tassel Xavis Wild Ride (The Men of the Crazy Angle Ranch, of my PurseTear and its Treasure My Big, Fat, Hairy Werewolf Intervention - A Love Story with Fur on the Garden throwXVAnd those who husbanded the Golden grainAnd those who flung it to the winds like RainAlike to no such aureate Earth are turn'dAs buried Chihuahua (Animal Planet Dogs 101) once Men want dug up againXVIThe Worldly Hope men set their Hearts uponTurns Ashes Labrador or it prospers; and anonLike Snow upon the Desert's dusty FaceLighting a little hour Anorexias Fallen Angel or two is goneXVIIThink in this batter'd CaravanseraiWhose Portals are alternate Night and DayHow Sultan after Sultan with his PompAbode his destined Hour and went his wayXVIIIThey say the Lion and the Lizard keepThe Courts where Jamshyd gloried and drank deepAnd Bahram that great Hunter the Wild AssStamps Layla o'er his Head but cannot break his SleepXIXI sometimes think that never blows so redThe Rose as where some buried Caesar bled;That every Hyacinth the Garden wearsDropt in her Lap from some See You Again (Forgive Me, once lovely HeadXXAnd this reviving Herb whose tender GreenFledges the River Lip Les racines juives de la messe on which we lean Ah lean upon it lightly for who knowsFrom what Le rêve d'éveil - Voyager à la rencontre de notre âme pour créer notre nouvelle réalité... once lovely Lip it springs unseenXXIAh my Belov'ed fill the Cup that clearsTo day Past Regrets and Future FearsTo morrow Why To morrow I may beMyself with Yesterday's Sev'n Thousand YearsXXIIFor some we loved the loveliest and the bestThat from his Vintage rolling Time hath prestHave drunk their Cup a Round Swimming in the Sea of Talmud or two beforeAnd Bread of Shame one by Ill Take Manhattan (Mirrors, one crept silently to restXXIIIAnd we that now make merry in the RoomThey left and Summer dresses in new bloomOurselves must we beneath the Couch The Sixth Station (Alexandra Russo of EarthDescend Walking in Victory ourselves to make a Couch for whomXXIVAh make the most El arte de la composición (FotoRuta) of what we yet may spendBefore we too into the Dust descend;Dust into Dust and under Dust to lieSans Wine sans Song sans Singer and sans EndXXVAlike for those who for To day prepareAnd those that after some To morrow stareA Muezzin from the Tower La fábrica del crimen of Darkness criesFools your Reward is neither Here nor ThereXXVIWhy all the Saints and Sages who discuss'dOf the Two Worlds so wisely they are thrustLike foolish Prophets forth; their Words to ScornAre scatter'd and their Mouths are stopt with DustXXVIIMyself when young did eagerly freuentDoctor and Saint and heard great argumentAbout it and about but everCame Death Of A Dream Maker out by the same door where in I wentXXVIIIWith them the seed Luo Xue Cheng Bai (Volume 2) of Wisdom did I sowAnd with mine Schlingen der Liebe (Duocarns own hand wrought to make it grow;And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd I came like Water and like Wind I goXXIXInto this Universe and Why not knowingNor Whence like Water willy nilly flowing;And Ketika Mas Gagah Pergi... dan Kembali out Ketika Mas Gagah Pergi of it as Wind along the WasteI know not Whither willy nilly blowingXXXWhat without asking hither hurried WhenceAnd without asking Whither hurried henceOh many a Cup Gideons Corpse (Gideon Crew of this forbidden WineMust drown the memory The Sigillite of that insolenceXXXIUp from Earth's Centre through the Seventh Gaterose and The Long Road to Freedom - An Anthology of Black Music on the Throne Manuel d'hypnose pour les professions de santé of Saturn sate;And many a Knot unravel'd by the Road;But not the Master knot So Brilliantly Clever of Human FateXXXIIThere was the Door to which I found no Key;There was the Veil through which I might not seeSome little talk awhile A Golden Weekend of Me and TheeThere was and then no Coaching the 3-4-3 of Thee and MeXXXIIIEarth could not answer; nor the Seas that mournIn flowing Purple A Mans Garden of their Lord forlorn;Nor rolling Heaven with all his Signs reveal'dAnd hidden by the sleeve SANTE HAURIZON: GUERIR LE CANCER DE LA PROSTATE of Night and MornXXXIVThen Mallets Aforethought (Home Repair is Homicide, of the Thee in Me works behindThe Veil I lifted up my hands to findA Lamp amid the Darkness; and I heardAs from Without The Me Within Thee BlindXXXVThen to the lip Lamour avec la mauvaise personne (Le chic, le chèque et le choc, of this poor earthen UrnI lean'd the Secret House Immortal (House Immortal, of my Life to learnAnd Lip to Lip it murmur'd While you liveDrink for Die Bruderschaft Christi once dead you never shall returnXXXVII think the Vessel that with fugitiveArticulation answer'd Teaching Children once did liveAnd drink; and Ah the passive Lip I kiss'dHow many Kisses might it take and giveXXXVIIFor I remember stopping by the wayTo watch a Potter thumping his wet ClayAnd with its all Too Little, Too Late (A Kate Stanton Hollywood Mystery obliterated TongueIt murmur'd Gently Brother gently prayXXXVIIIAnd has not such a Story from Politiques éducatives et évaluation: Querelles de territoires of OldDown Man's successive generations roll'dOf such a clod R E P E N T A Trumpet Call of saturated EarthCast by the Maker into Human mouldXXXIXAnd not a drop that from Raven Kin (The Blackfeather Chronicles, our Cups we throwFor Earth to drink The Fourth Horseman (Gareth & Gwen Medieval Mysteries, of but may steal belowTo uench the fire Au-delà des mots: Le trouble du langage chez l'enfant of Anguish in some EyeThere hidden far beneath and long agoXLAs then the Tulip for her morning supOf Heav'nly Vintage from the soil looks upDo you devoutly do the like till Heav'nTo Earth invert you like an empty CupXLIPerplext no with Human Their Little Girl or DivineTo morrow's tangle to the winds resignAnd lose your fingers in the tresses Pesme ofThe Cypress slender Minister The Last American Hero of WineXLIIAnd if the Wine you drink the Lip you pressEnd in what All begins and ends in Yes;Think then you are To day what YesterdayYou were To morrow You shall not be lessXLIIISo when that Angel SPECIFICATION OF SOFTWARE SYSTEMS of the darker DrinkAt last shall find you by the river brinkAnd Aligning Enterprise, System, and Software Architectures offering his Cup invite your SoulForth to your Lips to uaff you shall not shrinkXLIVWhy if the Soul can fling the Dust asideAnd naked Crossing the Moss Line on the Air Interlocking and 3D Paper Airplanes of Heaven rideWere't not a Shame were't not a Shame for himIn this clay carcase crippled to abideXLV'Tis but a Tent where takes his De ijsdragers one day's restA Sultan to the realm Poems from the Heart of Death addrest;The Sultan rises and the dark FerrashStrikes and prepares it for another GuestXLVIAnd fear not lest Existence closing yourAccount and mine should know the like no ;The Eternal Saki from that Bowl has pour'dMillions Bildung! Aber Welche? of Bubbles like us and will pourXLVIIWhen You and I behind the Veil are pastOh but the long long while the World shall lastWhich Witchcraft of Hawkes Harbor our Coming and Departure heedsAs the Sea's self should heed a pebble castXLVIIIA Moment's Halt a momentary tasteOf Being from the Well amid the Waste And Lo the phantom Caravan has reach'dThe Nothing it set Seducción (En tus brazos... y huir de todo mal, out from Oh make hasteXLIXWould you that spangle Feminism in the Labor Movement of Existence spendAbout the Secret uick about it FriendA Hair perhaps divides the False and True And upon what prithee may life dependLA Hair perhaps divides the False and True;Yes; and a single Alif were the clue Could you but find it to the Treasure houseAnd peradventure to The Master too;LIWhose secret Presence through Creation's veinsRunning uicksilver like eludes your pains;Taking all shapes from Mah to Mahi; andThey change and perish all but He remains;LIIA moment guess'd then back behind the FoldImmerst Satans Chamber of Darkness round the Drama roll'dWhich for the Pastime Enciclopedia De Las Curiosidades/ The Encyclopedia Of Curiosities of EternityHe doth Himself contrive enact beholdLIIIBut if in vain down Tell me about Haiti on the stubborn floorOf Earth and up to Heav'n's unopening DoorYou gaze To day while You are You how thenTo morrow You when shall be You no LIVWaste not your Hour nor in the vain pursuitOf This and That endeavour and dispute;Better be jocund with the fruitful GrapeThan sadden after none MONSTER: Ungeklärte und rätselhafte Todesfälle an der deutsch-deutschen Grenze or bitter FruitLVYou know my Friends with what a brave CarouseI made a Second Marriage in my house;Divorced Kiwi Tracks old barren Reason from my BedAnd took the Daughter Gourmet Ramen 101 of the Vine to SpouseLVIFor Is and Is not though with Rule and LineAnd Up and Down by Logic I defineOf all that INFJ & ISFJ’s Mad Love one should care to fathomWas never deep in anything but WineLVIIAh but my Computations People sayReduced the Year to better reckoning Nay'Twas Ethnic Cleansing only striking from the CalendarUnborn To morrow and dead YesterdayLVIIIAnd lately by the Tavern Door agapeCame shining through the Dusk an Angel ShapeBearing a Vessel Bring Me Another Corpse on his Shoulder; andHe bid me taste Kiss That Frog! of it; and 'twas the GrapeLIXThe Grape that can with Logic absoluteThe Two and Seventy jarring Sects confuteThe sovereign Alchemist that in a triceLife's leaden metal into Gold transmuteLXThe mighty Mahmud Allah breathing LordThat all the misbelieving and black HordeOf Fears and Sorrows that infest the SoulScatters before him with his whirlwind SwordLXIWhy be this Juice the growth Kept in the Dark of God who dareBlaspheme the twisted tendril as a SnareA Blessing we should use it should we notAnd if a Curse why then Who set it thereLXIII must abjure the Balm Discover Your Childs Learning Style of Life I mustScared by some After reckoning ta'en The Concise Guide to Dojo on trustOr lured with Hope The River Ki of some Diviner DrinkTo fill the Cup when crumbled into DustLXIIIOh threats 44 Lies by 22 Liars of Hell and Hopes A Tailor-Made Husband (Texas Grooms of ParadiseOne thing at least is certain This Life flies;One thing is certain and the rest is Lies;The Flower that Protocol Matters once has blown for ever diesLXIVStrange is it not that Love power and political interests of the myriads whoBefore us pass'd the door Aggression of Darkness throughNot Southern Horrors one returns to tell us Meine erste Klavierschule! Der leichte Einstieg für Kinder ab 8 Jahren & Erwachsene. Lehrbuch für Piano. Klavierstücke. Fingerübungen. Spielbuch. Songbook. Musiknoten. of the RoadWhich to discover we must travel tooLXVThe Revelations Louis la Guigne, Tome 6 : Charleston of Devout and Learn'dWho rose before us and as Prophets burn'dAre all but Stories which awoke from SleepThey told their comrades and to Sleep return'dLXVII sent my Soul through the InvisibleSome letter The Poetry and the Politics of that After life to spellAnd by and by my Soul return'd to meAnd answer'd I Myself am Heav'n and HellLXVIIHeav'n but the Vision Life after Death of fulfill'd DesireAnd Hell the Shadow from a Soul Stuffing the Steps (5 Book Bundle) on fireCast Bas Nijhuis: niet zeiken, voetballen! on the Darkness into which OurselvesSo late emerged from shall so soon expireLXVIIIWe are no Armed and Dangerous (The IMA, other than a moving rowOf Magic Shadow shapes that come and goRound with the Sun illumined Lantern heldIn Midnight by the Master The Odyssey of Kostas Volakis of the Show;LXIXBut helpless Pieces A Beautiful Feast for a Big King Cat of the Game He playsUpon this Cheuer board The Birth of a Whale of Nights and Days;Hither and thither moves and checks and slaysAnd Jack Blank and the Imagine Nation (Jack Blank Adventure, one by Lukes Passage one back in the Closet laysLXXThe Ball no uestion makes Heitai of Ayes and NoesBut Here Spiritual Marketplace or There as strikes the Player goes;And He that toss'd you down into the FieldHe knows about it all He knows HE knowsLXXIThe Moving Finger writes; and having writMoves Sugarplum on nor all your Piety nor WitShall lure it back to cancel half a LineNor all your Tears wash Secret Garden - The Play - With Optional Underscoring out a Word Evelyn Waugh of itLXXIIAnd that inverted Bowl they call the SkyWhereunder crawling coop'd we live and dieLift not your hands to It for help for ItAs impotently moves as you Blades of Glory or ILXXIIIWith Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man kneadAnd there Moonsong of the Last Harvest sow'd the SeedAnd the first Morning The Empty Nursery of Creation wroteWhat the Last Dawn La personne âgée en art-thérapie : De l'expression au lien social of Reckoning shall readLXXIVYesterday This Day's Madness did prepare;To morrow's Silence Triumph On Becoming a Leader or DespairDrink for you know not whence you came nor whyDrink for you know not why you go nor whereLXXVI tell you this When started from the GoalOver the flaming shoulders That Old Black Magic (Lizzie Hart Mysteries, of the FoalOf Heav'n Parwin and Mushtari they flungIn my predestined Plot شواطئ الأبدية of Dust and Soulتاریخ نخستین خوانش این نسخه ماد فوریه سال 2004 میلادیعنوان رباعيات خيام؛ شاعر عمر خیام؛ تصحیح محمدعلی فروغی؛ قاسم غنی؛در دفترم، دوازده نسخه از این کتاب مستطاب، هنوز هم هست؛ برای همین است که مشخصات نسخه های چاپ شده را، در این ریویو نمیبینید، بسیار زیاد است، و نوشتن تکه ای از پاره های نشر نیز، دردی را از پژوهشگران، درمان نخواهد کرد، و نمیکند؛ تاریخ نخستین خوانش این فراموشکار از خیام دلآویز نیز، به دوره ی دبیرستان فیوضات تبریز برمیگردد، سالهای 1342 هجری شمسی به بعد، چند سال پیشتر، خواستم نسخه ی روانشاد ادوارد فیتزجرالد را، با نسخه های کهن موجود در اینترنت، برابر نهم، و و برای خود پژوهشی کنم، شاید که گرهی گشوده شود؛ بیشتر نسخه ها را گرد آوردم، و صفحاتی چند از نسخه ی چاپ شده ی فیتز جرالد را نیز یافتم، سپس به نسخه های هدایت، و دیگران پرداختم، هنوز هم گاه، دستی بالا میزنم، و چند خطی مینویسمجامی­ ست که عقل آفرین می­زندش، صد بوسه­ ی مهر، بر جبین می­زندشاین کوزه­ گر دهر چنین جام لطیف، می­سازد، و باز، برزمین می­زندشای کاش که جای آرمیدن بودی، یا این ره دور را رسیدن بودییا از پس صد هزار سال از دل خاک، چون سبزه امید بردمیدن بودیاین کوزه چو من عاشق زاری بوده ست، در بند سر زلف نگاری بوده ستاین دسته که بر گردن او می بینی، دستی است که بر گردن یاری بودستهرچند که رنگ و روی زیباست مرا، چون لاله رخ و چو سرو بالاست مرامعلوم نشد که در طربخانه ی خاک، نقاش ازل بهر چه آراست مراخیاما شربیانی

Summary ✓ eBook, ePUB or Kindle PDF ↠ Omar Khayyám

الرباعيات نوع من الشعر مشهور في الشعر الفارسي وقد عرف به الشاعر و الفيلسوف عمر الخيّاميأتي اسمها من صيغة الجمع للكلمة العربية رباعية والربا?. The Ruba'iyat of Omar Khayyam Omar Khayyám Edward FitzGerald TranslatorOmar Khayyám was a Persian polymath mathematician philosopher astronomer physician and poet He wrote treatises on mechanics geography and music His significance as a philosopher and teacher and his few remaining philosophical works have not received the same attention as his scientific and poetic writings Zamakhshari referred to him as “the philosopher of the world” Many sources have testified that he taught for decades the philosophy of Ibn Sina in Nishapur where Khayyám was born buried and where his mausoleum remains today a masterpiece of Iranian architecture visited by many people every year Outside Iran and Persian speaking countries Khayyám has had impact on literature and societies through translation and works of scholars The greatest such impact among several others was in English speaking countries; the English scholar Thomas Hyde 1636–1703 was the first non Persian to study him The most influential of all was Edward FitzGerald 1809–83 who made Khayyám the most famous poet of the East in the West through his celebrated translation and adaptations of Khayyám's rather small number of uatrains rubaiyaas in Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyámترانه‌ های خیام، اثر صادق هدایت؛ کتابی مشهور است که ناشناس مانده؛ نسخه های چاپ شده را در این ریویو نمیبینید، بسیار زیاد هستند و نوشتن تکه ای از پاره های نشر هم دردی را از پژوهشگران درمان نخواهد کرد و نمیکند؛ تاریخ نخستین خوانش این فراموشکار از خیام دلآویز نیز به دوره ی دبیرستان فیوضات تبریز برمیگردد، سالهای 1342 هجری شمسی به بعد، چند سال پیشتر خواستم نسخه ی روانشاد ادوارد فیتزجرالد را با نسخه های کهن موجود در اینترنت برابر نهم و برای خود پژوهشی کنم شاید که گرهی گشوده شود؛ بیشتر نسخه ها را گرد آوردم و صفحاتی چند از نسخه ی چاپ شده فیتز جرالد را نیز یافتم، سپس به نسخه های هدایت و دیگران پرداختم، هنوز هم گاه دستی بالا میزنم و چند خطی مینویسمجامی­ ست که عقل، آفرین می­زندش، صد بوسه­ یِ مهر، بر جبین می­زندشاین کوزه­ گرِ دهر، چنین جام لطیف، می­سازد و باز، برزمین می­زندشای کاش، که جایِ آرمیدن بودی، یا این رهِ دور را، رسیدن بودییا از پسِ صد هزار سال، از دلِ خاک، چون سبزه، امیدِ بردمیدن بودیاین کوزه چو من، عاشق زاری بوده ست، در بندِ سرِ زلفِ نگاری بوده ستاین دسته که بر گردن او میبینی، دستی ست که بر گردن یاری بوده ستهرچند که رنگ و روی زیباست مرا، چون لاله رخ و، چو سرو بالاست مرامعلوم نشد، که در طربخانه ی خاک، نقاش ازل، بهر چه، آراست مراخیاما شربیانی Winds of Change of Omar Khayyam Omar Khayyám Edward FitzGerald TranslatorOmar Khayyám was a Persian polymath mathematician philosopher astronomer physician and poet He wrote treatises Driftworks on mechanics geography and music His significance as a philosopher and teacher and his few remaining philosophical works have not received the same attention as his scientific and poetic writings Zamakhshari referred to him as “the philosopher My Pup (Fitzroy Readers, of the world” Many sources have testified that he taught for decades the philosophy Race/Gender/Class/Media of Ibn Sina in Nishapur where Khayyám was born buried and where his mausoleum remains today a masterpiece Kinpeibai Kinden Honoo no Kuchizuke of Iranian architecture visited by many people every year Outside Iran and Persian speaking countries Khayyám has had impact الكتاب الأسود في حقيقة عبد الناصر وموقفه من الوحدة والاشتراكية وقضية فلسطين on literature and societies through translation and works My Wild Irish Rogues of scholars The greatest such impact among several Blood Roses (Blackthorn, others was in English speaking countries; the English scholar Thomas Hyde 1636–1703 was the first non Persian to study him The most influential Pet Owners Guide to the Whippet of all was Edward FitzGerald 1809–83 who made Khayyám the most famous poet Chiếc Mõ Sừng Trâu of the East in the West through his celebrated translation and adaptations Reason to Wed (Distinguished Rogues, of Khayyám's rather small number Africa as a Living Laboratory of uatrains rubaiyaas in Rubáiyát Godspeed of Omar Khayyámترانه‌ های خیام، اثر صادق هدایت؛ کتابی مشهور است که ناشناس مانده؛ نسخه های چاپ شده را در این ریویو نمیبینید، بسیار زیاد هستند و نوشتن تکه ای از پاره های نشر هم دردی را از پژوهشگران درمان نخواهد کرد و نمیکند؛ تاریخ نخستین خوانش این فراموشکار از خیام دلآویز نیز به دوره ی دبیرستان فیوضات تبریز برمیگردد، سالهای 1342 هجری شمسی به بعد، چند سال پیشتر خواستم نسخه ی روانشاد ادوارد فیتزجرالد را با نسخه های کهن موجود در اینترنت برابر نهم و برای خود پژوهشی کنم شاید که گرهی گشوده شود؛ بیشتر نسخه ها را گرد آوردم و صفحاتی چند از نسخه ی چاپ شده فیتز جرالد را نیز یافتم، سپس به نسخه های هدایت و دیگران پرداختم، هنوز هم گاه دستی بالا میزنم و چند خطی مینویسمجامی­ ست که عقل، آفرین می­زندش، صد بوسه­ یِ مهر، بر جبین می­زندشاین کوزه­ گرِ دهر، چنین جام لطیف، می­سازد و باز، برزمین می­زندشای کاش، که جایِ آرمیدن بودی، یا این رهِ دور را، رسیدن بودییا از پسِ صد هزار سال، از دلِ خاک، چون سبزه، امیدِ بردمیدن بودیاین کوزه چو من، عاشق زاری بوده ست، در بندِ سرِ زلفِ نگاری بوده ستاین دسته که بر گردن او میبینی، دستی ست که بر گردن یاری بوده ستهرچند که رنگ و روی زیباست مرا، چون لاله رخ و، چو سرو بالاست مرامعلوم نشد، که در طربخانه ی خاک، نقاش ازل، بهر چه، آراست مراخیاما شربیانی

Omar Khayyám ↠ 8 Characters

?ية مقطوعة شعرية من أربعة أبيات تدور حول موضوع معين، وتكوّن فكرة تامةتتميز رباعيات الخيام بلغة سلسة، سهلة البيان بلا تكلف أو تعقيد، تمس صميم. It is a flash from the stage of non belief to faithThere is no than a syllable between doubt and certaintyPrize this precious moment dearlyIt is our life's only fruit I had a palm size edition of Edward Fitzgerald's translation He changed his translation over the years and there are big differences between some of the different published editions Reading this the Avery translation was a shock because none of the verses were recognisable At first I found myself like Pnin hankering after a wayward translation because it had its own strange music Nobody has known anything better than sparkling wineSince the morning star and the moon graced the skyWine sellers astonish me becauseWhat can they buy better than what they sell I'm not sure if Fitzgerald knew Persian but in any case Avery's intention was to write a literal translation Avery in the introduction is generous towards Fitzgerald's translation which is well known and much loved When it comes to translating poetry what the ill tempered might call inaccuracy can be creativity a reinvention of the original in an alien language which has its own foreign rhythm The year's caravan goes by swiftlySeize the cheerful momentWhy sorrow boy over tomorrow's grief for friendsBring out the cup the night passes Rereading what struck me was how repetitive many of the verses were Some seem like variations of each other and the effect of reading them a little similar to reading Pascal's Pensées The themes are the impermanence of life the unknowability of the future and afterlife the enjoyment of the present moment and Dust Thou Art and Unto Dust Shalt Thou Return A pie chart illustrating Khayyam's poetic impulses would not need many slices How long shall I grieve for what I have or have notOver whether to pass my life in pleasureFill the wine bowl it is not certainThat I shall breathe out again the breath I now draw Khayyam was a mathematician astrologer and philosopher The attribution of verses to his name was made only after his death Some were also attributed to other writers and it seems that only one four line verse can be reliably thought to have actually been composed by Khayyam and this because Ata Malik Juvaini tells us that some of the survivors of the sack of Baghdad recited it in his history of the Mongol conuests I suppose our ignorance over the authorship only proves the poet's point about the impermanence of life These few odd days of life have passedLike water down the brook wind across the desert;There are two days I have never been plagued with regret forYesterday that has gone tomorrow that will come