The RubĂĄiyĂĄt of Omar KhayyĂĄm
First and Fifth Editions
Edward FitzGerald
- 64 pages
- English
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The RubĂĄiyĂĄt of Omar KhayyĂĄm
First and Fifth Editions
Edward FitzGerald
Ă propos de ce livre
Omar KhayyĂĄm (1048â1122) was a Persian mathematician, astronomer, and a philosopher who was not known as a poet in his lifetime. Later, a body of quatrains became attached to his name, although not all were his works. These verses lay in obscurity until 1859, when Edward FitzGerald (1809â1883), an English country gentleman, published a free adaptation of this Persian poetry. After its discovery by D. G. Rossetti and others, the verse became extremely popular. Essentially a hedonist and a skeptic, Omar KhayyĂĄm, through FitzGerald, spoke with both an earthy and spiritual freedom that stirred a universal response. As a result, the RubĂĄiyĂĄt became one of the best-known and most often quoted English classics. The fifth edition, published posthumously in 1889, was based on FitzGerald's handwritten changes in a copy of the fourth edition, and is traditionally printed with the first edition.
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Text of the Fifth Edition
(1889)
The Stars before him from the Field of Night,
Drives Night along with them from Heavân, and strikes
The Sultanâs Turret with a Shaft of Light.
Methought a Voice within the Tavern cried,
âWhen all the Temple is prepared within,
âWhy nods the drowsy Worshipper outside?â
The Tavern shoutedââOpen then the Door!
âYou know how little while we have to stay,
âAnd, once departed, may return no more.â
The thoughtful Soul to Solitude retires,
Where the WHITE HAND OF MOSES on the Bough
Puts out, and Jesus from the Ground suspires.
And Jamshydâs Sevân-ringâd Cup where no one knows;
But still a Ruby kindles in the Vine,
And many a Garden by the Water blows.
High-piping PehlevĂ, with âWine! Wine! Wine!
âRed Wine!ââthe Nightingale cries to the Rose
That sallow cheek of hers to incarnadine.
Your Winter-garment of Repentance fling:
The Bird of Time has but a little way
To flutterâand the Bird is on the Wing.
Whether the Cup with sweet or bitter run,
The Wine of Life keeps oozing drop by drop,
The Leaves of Life keep falling one by one.
Yes, but where leaves the Rose of Yesterday?
And this first Summer month that brings the Rose
Shall take Jamshyd and KaikobĂĄd away.
With KaikobĂĄd the Great, or KaikhosrĂș?
Let ZĂĄl and Rustum bluster as they will,
Or HĂĄtim call to Supperâheed not you.
That just divides the desert from the sown,
Where name of Slave and Sultan is forgotâ
And Peace to MahmĂșd on his golden Throne!
A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Breadâand Thou
Beside me singing in the Wildernessâ
Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!
Sigh for the Prophetâs Paradise to come;
Ah, take the Cash, and let the Credit go,
Nor heed the rumble of a distant Drum!
âLaughing,â she says, âinto the world I blow,
âAt once the silken tassel of my Purse
âTear, and its Treasure on the Garden throw.â
And those who flung it to the winds like Rain,
Alike to no such aureate Earth are turnâd
As, buried once, Men want dug up again.