266. from the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam by Edward FitzGerald
b'E FitzGerald read by Classic Poetry Aloud:\\nhttp://www.classicpoetryaloud.com/\\n\\nGiving voice to the poetry of the past.\\n\\n---------------------------------------------\\n\\nfrom the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam\\ntranslated by by Edward FitzGerald (1809 \\u2013 1883)\\n\\nI\\n\\nAwake! for Morning in the Bowl of Night\\nHas flung the Stone that puts the Stars to Flight:\\n And Lo! the Hunter of the East has caught\\nThe Sultan\'s Turret in a Noose of Light.\\n\\nII\\n\\nDreaming when Dawn\'s Left Hand was in the Sky\\nI heard a Voice within the Tavern cry,\\n "Awake, my Little ones, and fill the Cup\\nBefore Life\'s Liquor in its Cup be dry."\\n\\nIII\\n\\nAnd, as the Cock crew, those who stood before\\nThe Tavern shouted--"Open then the Door!\\n You know how little time we have to stay,\\nAnd, once departed, may return no more."\\n\\n\\nVII\\n\\nCome, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring\\nThe Winter Garment of Repentance fling:\\n The Bird of Time has but a little way\\nTo fly--and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing.\\n\\nX\\nWith me along some Strip of Herbage strown\\nThat just divides the desert from the sown,\\n Where name of Slave and Sult\\xe1n scarce is known,\\nAnd pity Sult\\xe1n Mahm\\xfad on his Throne.\\n\\nXI\\n\\nHere with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,\\nA Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse--and Thou\\n Beside me singing in the Wilderness--\\nAnd Wilderness is Paradise enow.\\n\\nXII\\n\\n"How sweet is mortal Sovranty!"--think some:\\nOthers--"How blest the Paradise to come!"\\n Ah, take the Cash in hand and wave the Rest;\\nOh, the brave Music of a distant Drum!\\n\\nXIII\\n\\nLook to the Rose that blows about us--"Lo,\\nLaughing," she says, "into the World I blow:\\n At once the silken Tassel of my Purse\\nTear, and its Treasure on the Garden throw."\\n\\nXIV\\n\\nThe Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon\\nTurns Ashes--or it prospers; and anon,\\n Like Snow upon the Desert\'s dusty Face\\nLighting a little Hour or two--is gone.\\n\\nXV\\n\\nAnd those who husbanded the Golden Grain,\\nAnd those who flung it to the Winds like Rain,\\n Alike to no such aureate Earth are turn\'d\\nAs, buried once, Men want dug up again.\\n\\nXVI\\n\\nThink, in this batter\'d Caravanserai\\nWhose Doorways are alternate Night and Day,\\n How Sult\\xe1n after Sult\\xe1n with his Pomp\\nAbode his Hour or two, and went his way.\\n\\n\\nFor hundreds more poetry readings, visit the Classic Poetry Aloud index.\\n\\nReading \\xa9 Classic Poetry Aloud 2008'