Richard Le Galienne - Fifty Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, 1901

JBAIYAT

OF OMAR KHAYYAM

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University of California

â&#x20AC;˘

Berkeley

From the Bequest of

Dorothy

K.

Thomas

Digitized by the Internet Archive in

2008

with funding from

IVIicrosoft

Corporation

http://www.archive.org/details/fiftyrubaiyatofoOOomarrich

FIFTY U

R

B

A O

I

Y

A

T

F

OMAR KHAYYAM PARAPHRASED FROM UTERAL TRANSLATIONS BY

RICHARD LcGALLIENNE

THE

PHILOSOPHER PRESS

At The Sign of The

Creen Pine Tree WAUSAU WISCONSIN

Two only for

hundred copies printed for private circulation

James Carleton Young and

irlucli tliis is

number

liis

friends of

â&#x20AC;¢

*

)

^

"

Copyrighted 1901 by

Richard

Le

Gallienive.

TATTERED

robe, and face with

loving pale.

me not by

Pass

I

:

am the Nightingale

That dares to sing of Riot and the Rose;

And, Brother,

^UT,

I

would give thee hand and

sinner, there's one thing I

hail.

want to

hear:

O

tell

me

â&#x20AC;&#x201D;

is

your sinning quite sincere ?

You would could

Say

that

not leave

it

even though you

1

you would

jEMEMBER

not,

â&#x20AC;&#x201D;

O my brother dear.

all

the

pious

who

cry

shame.

With holy

horror, on your tattered fame.

Watch only

Of

for the opportunity

turned backs and the dark to do the same.

Jet

us at least

who

think the Rose

is

best

Not,

paltry, lie about

But

And

like the rest;

our glasses frankly in the sun.

take our love as frankly to our breast.

n s

HIS

In

And

lift

it,

is

the creed of

Wine

In

Woman

and Roses, also

â&#x20AC;&#x201D;(what

God

in the

that

made them

For thou,

I

I

believe

believe

thing to do

!)

believe.

soul that gives

me

breath.

Dearer than

Nay,

:

I

a foolish

^^M DEARER than the ^^3^

Omar

life, as

the old proverb saith,

that is but a sorry

my

compliment

love, art dearer even than death.

days are

filled

with wonder and witK

wine,

Wine

helps the

wonder,

wonder helps

the

wine But in the night Tears, tears, for one

my bosom

who

fills

with

tears.

never can be mine.

TN

sad eyes must sparkle in the sun.

But,

when

Down Haunted by

the miracle of day

in a bankrupt darkness all

3ET was

I

lost

â&#x20AC;&#x201D;

is

deep

and might have

there aught to

win

done, I lie

won

!

that is not

mine ?

I

ask not

money

â&#x20AC;&#x201D;

only to buy wine

Women forsake me not, What

for all

my

sins

better winnings, pious friend, are thine ?

MAM

not

fit

for hell,

For heaven

I

—

am too

I

am

I

too small;

heretical;

love both places, yet not one enough

'Twixt the two stools

^OD

gave

me

I fall

—

eyesight

and fall

—

—and

fall.

rob

my

shall I

eyes?

He

gave

me

smell

—

Members and

Who

bids

me

|EA

!

senses delicate to feed

them

starve

none

instead of merchandise

God

himself denies.

shall tell that I

have turned

away.

Ungrateful,

when some woman bid me

The golden I

invitation of a friend

answered ever with

>>

a thankful '*yea.

stay

IHINK

not that

have never tried your

I

way

To heaven, you who Once

I

pray and

fast

and pray.

denied myself both love and wine.

Yea wine and love

—

CANNOT

for a

help

whole summer day.

Were

it.

it

in

my

power, I

would

forsake

my

Forswear the

sins this very hour.

Rose,

bid the Vine

and

goodbye.

Kiss

my

^m

M

It

last kiss

—

if it

were

in

GOOD old friends—what

Forgive me, forsake

powerl

is it I

have

saidl

was the wine which got into

I shall

my

O forgive,

you only when

I

my

head

meant

Tm

it

dead.

not,

ND

even then

—who

knows

—

we'll

meet again.

Nor

the celestial wine-cup cease to drain.

And

in

some laughter-loving heaven on

high

Our

little

women

{HEN

to our

bosoms

strain.

to this loot of life I

Hoping

to snatch

some

come anear.

little

worldly

gear, I find the fools

And

nought

^j^F ^^) I care

have carted off the best.

is left for

me, but

thou wilt keep

my

—hope

and

head well

fear.

filled

with wine,

not

if

the

whole round world be thine;

O fading kingdoms and forgotten kings, I

know

a better

kingdom

—

drink red wine.

fITHIN

the

man

each

tavern

is

a

king.

Wine

is

the slave that brings

—

him

anything;

O friend, be wise in time and Join our band.

Drink and forget and laugh and dance and sing.

WONDER This

life

why

go on living

I

of pain and poison,

Trust friends, hope good, still

still

why I still

still fight

and

have faith

In this world's business

—

^still,

think of

it,

returns

me

stilll

GAVE my

heart,

and

life

nought;

My

mind,

my

soul, I gave

—

for

what?

For

nought All dreams and loves and hopes I freely gave;

Nothing

is left

to give.

I

give

it

:

Nought.

OU say:

''There are so many crowns to win.

Yet you

lie

Bring

And

I

sunken in your sleepy sin

me

a

will wear

crown of gold and big enough. it

â&#x20AC;&#x201D;

^HETHER

I

'^ 1

all

these are of tin.

you would abide or go away.

Wine

will befriend you, friend

:

for, if you stay.

You'll forget going; and,

He '11 drown

you

JOME

if you

must go.

in the very sweetest way.

that

would

leave

this

world

take dreadful means.

One

wrenching poisons, one

steel,

His brow on sudden

fire,

another leans but

wine

is

best

Poets have died so, and many kings, and queens.

[INE

is

the tender friend of suicides.

You drown so softly in its

You know

And

gentle tides:

not you are dying, yet you die.

love with rose-leaves

^OULD

all

you forget

the ruin hides.

woman

a

â&#x20AC;&#x201D;

drink

red wine:

Would you remember Is

her. then drink red wine:

your heart breaking

Gaze deep within

JACE

just to see her face?

this mirror

like a glass

â&#x20AC;&#x201D;

of red wine.

wherein

all

heaven

lies,

A

jErmament

reflecJted in

two

Thanks to your heaven,

The shadow

of your laughter

eyes: I

am deep in hell.

is

my

sighs.

^^Y

cheeks, like hollow cups, are filled

^1^ My

with

body

is a

tears.

haunted house of

fears.

My heart is like a wine-jar filled with blood:

O God

!

those sightless eyes, those small deaf cars.

SHEIK

once took

a

in her

harlot

shame.

Calling the poor soul '*

Tis true,

''

But, sheik, of thee

SPEAK

^^^ i^^ These

many

she wept,

would

not

I

an ugly name; *'

all I

appear

am;

could say the samel

evil of

''

dancing

these

flowers.

girls that arrogantly

we

call ours,

Yours, mine, and anyone's

who

bids and

buys

O God

I

!

the pity of the fate of flowers

1

rtRL, have you any thought what your eyes

mean?

You must have stolen them from some dead queen;

O And

little

dances

empty laughing soul

—

tell

ND

all

that sings

me what do your

body

this

of

eyes mean

1

and

ivory

myrrh,

O guard

it

with some

Know

your

little

love and care

own wonder, worship

it

with

me.

See how

I fall

OW

before

sad

to

deep in prayer.

it

be

a

woman,

—

not

to

know Aught of

the glory of this breast of snow.

All unconcerned to

To

be a

woman

—and

comb

this

yet never

mighty hair

know

I

[ERE

a

I

woman,

I

wouli

day

all

long

Sing

my own

beauty in some holy song.

Bend low before

And

say ''I

^^^

am

a

LOVE,

hushed and half afraid.

it,

woman''

I

come

all

to

day long.

worship

in

your

shrine.

There

no part of you

is

There There

is

is

is

not divine.

no part of you not human too.

no part of you

|XCEPT

—

except

that is not mine;

—

that heart of precious

stone.

Cold

heart

Nor

no man

fire

Heart great

—

shall ever call his

own.

warm, nor might of loving win. and

cold—enough to dwell alone.

HOUGH

Li I

am

my

poor,

my

raiment torn,

not really sorry

I

was born.

For God has given me

Wine

be

estate

my heart's desire

and the Well-Beloved and the morn.

^AD

pilgrim of the heart, the

way

is

long.

Suppose we lighten

Here Strong

is

for

it

you with

in the tavern rest your

your love, but wine

kE

know

a

wandering feet.

is just as

the love that drives

and

song;

strong.

you to

fro.

Like hungry dogs that through the city go.

The hollow hunger of

And

the one cure for

it,

the breaking heart.

alike

we know.

AKI, bring

^&1 And

roses for this sad one's

hair.

set a

bowl of rubies

And

you,

O

for

moon,

him

there

dance,

dance

and

dance and dance

That the poor fellow may not think of her.

IFE

is

too short, dear brother, to be sad;

If

you must needs be anything

—

be glad

Leave bitter books and read the Book of

Joy— I

know

that

yg^ O Why

all

declare the

'tis

book

is

bad.

of us the thought of heaven

not be sure of

No But

some

doubt there

it,

and make

is a

so far away, and

it

here

heaven yonder too.

—you

are near.

is

BOOK,

Woman,

a

and

a

Flask of

Wine,

The three make heaven Is

â&#x20AC;&#x201D;

for

me;

it

may be

thine

some sour place of singing cold and bare

But then

I

never said thy heaven was mine.

jOVE,

the fair day is drawing to its close.

The

stars are rising

The

gates

and

a soft

wind blows.

of heaven are opening in a

dream.

The

nightingale sings to the sleeping rose.

IHADOWS

and

dew and

silence and

the stars; I

wonder, love, what

Of

twinkling

is

behind those bars

silver,

â&#x20AC;&#x201D;

is

there

behind ?

Venus and

Jupiter, Sirius and

Mars;

aught

LDEBARAN,

and the soft Pleiades,

Orion ploughing

Which

are the stars,

the ethereal seas

my

love, and

which

your eyes?

And

O the

nightingale in yonder trees

jEART

of

my

heart, in

such an hour as

this

The cup

of

See,

it

life

brims

all

too full of bliss.

runs over in these happy tears

How strange you seem how solemn is your kissl !

LOVE,

if I

should die before you

died.

Would you

be really sorry that

And would you weep

my Then be

a

I

died?

whole week on

tomb.

a little

happy

â&#x20AC;&#x201D;

that I

died?

ND

would you

some

see

face

that

looked

like

looked like mine.

And

love

it,

love

mine

And

say:

—

"because

it

I

*'How

strangely like

Khayyam

you areT'

And

kiss the face

m

HEN

Showers

—

so wondrously like mine

you bring him

would

where the rose its petals

upon

my

softly

^

repose.

And shed two tears together on my tomb, Strange are the ways of grief

who knows

I

— who

knows,

Here end

the rubaiyatof

Omar Khayyam

of

Naishapur newly done into English verse by Richard LeGallienne, made into this book by

Helen Bruneau VanVechten Press which

is in

at

The Philosopher

Wausau Wisconsin

at

Sign of The Green Pine Tree, finished second day of March

Made

for

The this

MCMI.

Mr. James Carleton Young,

Minneapolis Minnesota.

L37

ilUBAIYAT

OF OMAR KHAYYAM