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… - Omar Khayyám

Would you that spangle of Existence spend About the Secret — Quick about it, Friend! A Hair perhaps divides the False and True — And upon what, prithee, may life depend?

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.

هر یک چندی یکی بر آید که: منم! با نعمت و با سیم و زر آید که: منم!
چون کارَک او نظام گیرد روزی، ناگه، اجل از کمین در آید که: منم!