POEM OF THE DAY

IN1859, a translation of quatrains (rubais) by the 12th-century Persian poet Omar Khayyam were first published, anonymously, by Edward Fitzgerald. The chosen verses below give just a taste of the composite poem’s fairly cynical philosophical outlook and its argument for snatching the fleeting moment. The opening quatrain has that lovely metaphor of the sultan’s turret caught in the noose of light; the ominous message of the last is very familiar!

From THE RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM

Awake! for Morning in the Bowl of Night Has flung the Stone that puts the stars to Flight:

And Lo! the Hunter of the East has caught

The Sultan’s Turret in a Noose of Light.

Dreaming when Dawn’s Left Hand was in the Sky

I heard a Voice within the Tavern cry, ‘Awake, my Little ones, and fill the Cup ‘Before Life’s Liquor in its Cup be dry.’

Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring

The Winter Garment of Repentance fling:

The Bird of Time has but a little way To fly – and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing.

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...

But leave the Wise to wrangle, and with me

The Quarrel of the Universe let be:

And in some corner of the Hubbub coucht,

Make Game of that which makes as much of Thee.

For in and out, above, about, below,

’Tis nothing but a Magic Shadow-show, Play’d in a Box whose Candle is the Sun,

Round which we phantom Figures come and go.

’Tis all a Chequerboard of Nights and Days

Where Destiny with Men for Pieces plays;

Hither and thither moves, and mates, and slays,

And one by one back in the Closet lays.

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,

Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit

Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it...