Omar Khayyám Quotes

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.

And if the Wine you drink, the Lip
you press,
End 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

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.

خوش باش که پخته اند سودای تو دی
فارغ شده اند از تمنای تو دی
قصه چه کنم که بی تقاضای تو ومی
دادند قرار کار فردای تو دی

The arch of heaven looks like an
upside-down cup, under which the wise
wander in vain. May your love for your beloved
be as great as the love of the bottle for the glass.
Look, how one gives and one receives, lip against
lip, the precious blood of the grapes.

O friend, for the morrow let us not worry
This moment we have now, let us not hurry
When our time comes, we shall not tarry
With seven thousand-year-olds, our burden carry”
So lets not let those precious moment of life exhaust
because soon fade away. And be it gash or gold it will not come
Again in this identical disguise.

The mighty Mahmúd, Allah-breathing Lord,
That all the misbelieving and black Horde
Of Fears and Sorrows that infest the Soul
Scatters before him with his whirlwind Sword.

"God is great!"
That shout from the mosque seems like
a grand lamentation. Five times a day
the earth seems to groan against
its indifferent creator!

And do you think that unto such as you,
A maggot-minded, starved, fanatic crew,
God gave the Secret, and denied it me? — Well, well, what matters it! believe that too.

Old Khayyám, say you, is a debauchee;
If only you were half so good as he!
He sins no sins but gentle drunkenness,
Great-hearted mirth and kind adultery.

But yours the cold heart, and the murderous tongue,
The wintry soul that hates to hear a song,
The close-shut fist, the mean and measuring eye,
And all the little poisoned ways of wrong.

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.

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.

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

This Universal wheel, this merry-go-round
In our imagination we have found
The sun a flame, in the Cosmic lantern bound
We are mere ghosts, revolving, the flame surround.

Покоя мало, тягот не избыть,
Растут заботы, все мрачнее жить...
Хвала творцу, что бед у нас хватает:
Хоть что-то не приходится просить.

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