Omar Khayyám Quotes

We are in truth but pieces on this chess board of life,which in the end we leave,only to drop one by one into the grave of nothingness.

As under cover of departing Day Slunk hunger-stricken Ramazan away, Once more within the Potter's house alone I stood, surrounded by the Shapes of Clay.

Yesterday This Day's Madness did prepare;
To-morrow's Silence, Triumph, or Despair:
Drink! for you know not whence you came, nor why:
Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.

Youth, like a magic bird, has flown away
He sang a little morning-hour in May
Sang to the rose, his love, that too is gone — Whither is more than you or I can say.

And that inverted Bowl they call the Sky, Whereunder crawling coop'd we live and die, Lift not your hands to It for help — for It As impotently moves as you or I.

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. — Omar Khayyam
...

Nor will I: ever write a word that fades in light, this I must be certain; else lay desolate at bight. <3

Ah, my Belovéd, fill the cup that clears
To-day of past Regret and future Fears.

Her sabah yeni bir gün doğarken,
Bir gün de eksilir ömürden;
Her şafak bir hırsız gibidir
Elinde bir fenerle gelen.
Dünya dediğin bir bakışımızdır bizim;
Ceyhun nehri kanlı gözyaşımızdır bizim;
Cehennem, boşuna dert çektiğimiz günler,
Cennetse gün ettiğimiz günlerdir bizim.

My tomb shall be in a spot where the north wind may scatter roses over it.

Come, fill the Cup, in the fire of Spring
Your Winter-garment of Repentance fling:
The Bird of Time has but a little way
To flutter — and the Bird is on the Wing

In one window looked two. One saw the rain and mud.
Other — green foliage ligature, spring and the sky is blue.
In one window looked two.

How much more of the mosque, of prayer and fasting?
Better go drunk and begging round the taverns.
Khayyam, drink wine, for soon this clay of yours
Will make a cup, bowl, one day a jar.

When once you hear the roses are in bloom,
Then is the time, my love, to pour the wine;
Houris and palaces and Heaven and Hell-
These are but fairy-tales, forget them all.

Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.

The Wine of Life keeps oozing drop by drop,
The Leaves of Life keep falling one by one.

Khayyám, who stitched the tents of science,
Has fallen in grief's furnace and been suddenly burned,
The shears of Fate have cut the tent ropes of his life,
And the broker of Hope has sold him for nothing!