Omar Khayyám Quotes

Of threats of Hell and Hopes of Paradise! One 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 dies.

Admettons que tu aies résolu l'énigme de la création.
Quel est ton destin?

Admettons que tu aies pu dépouiller de toutes ses robes la Vérité.
Quel est ton destin?

Admettons que tu aies vécu cent ans, heureux, et que tu vives cent ans encore.
Quel est ton destin?

The creator of stars, heaven and earth
surpassed himself when he also created pain. Lips like rubies, delicious-smelling hair, blooming flowers, how many of you are
already buried in earthy soil?

Drunk am I with very love and awe;
'Twas ever thus with veritable seers — Too drunk with joy to tell us what they saw.

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

Bir testi aldım çarşıdan ucuza;
Gizli gizli neler anlattı bana;
Bir şahdım, dedi; altın kupam vardı;
Şimdi neyim? Testi oldum şaraba..

Darnic ești și dărnicia știe daruri să împartă.
Dar de ce nelegiuiții lângă rai rămân la poartă?
De mă ierți doar prin credință, darul ăsta e zadarnic:
Iartă-mă și cu păcate, și atuncea, da, ești darnic!...

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!

Allah, perchance, the secret word might spell; If Allah be, He keeps His secret well; What He hath hidden, who shall hope to find? Shall God His secret to a maggot tell? … The Koran! well, come put me to the test— Lovely old book in hideous error drest— Believe me, I can quote the Koran too, The unbeliever knows his Koran best. 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.

And when like her, oh, Saki, you shall pass Among the Guests Star-scatter'd on the Grass, And in your joyous errand reach the spot Where I made One — turn down an empty Glass!

Yon rising Moon that looks for us again — How oft hereafter will she wax and wane; How oft hereafter rising look for us Through this same Garden — and for one in vain!

Ah, Love! could you and I with Him conspire To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire, Would not we shatter it to bits — and then Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!

Would but some wing'ed Angel ere too late Arrest the yet unfolded Roll of Fate, And make the stern Recorder otherwise Enregister, or quite obliterate!

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!

And much as Wine has play'd the Infidel, And robb'd me of my Robe of Honour — Well, I wonder often what the Vintners buy One half so precious as the stuff they sell.