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OMAR KHAYYAM

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Bianca
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« on: August 11, 2007, 07:22:24 am »






                                                    O M A R   K H A Y Y A M




Persian scholar

Islamic Golden Age







                                                                                                                                                        Statue of Khayyam at his Mausoleum in Neyshabur



 
Name: Omar Khayym

Birth: 1048

Death: 1131

 
Main interests: Poetry, Mathematics, Philosophy, Astronomy
 
 

 
Ghiyās od-Dīn Abul-Fatah Omār ibn Ibrāhīm Khayyām Nishābūrī (Persian: غیاث الدین ابو الفتح عمر بن ابراهیم خیام نیشابوری) or Omar Khayyam (b. May 18, 1048 Nishapur, (Persia) d. December 4, 1131), was a Persian poet, mathematician, philosopher and astronomer who lived in Persia. His name is also given as Omar al-Khayyami.

He is best known for his poetry, and outside Iran, for the quatrains (rubaiyaas) in Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, popularized through Edward Fitzgerald's re-created translation. His substantial mathematical contributions include his Treatise on Demonstration of Problems of Algebra, which gives a geometric method for solving cubic equations by intersecting a hyperbola with a circle. He also contributed to calendar reform and may have proposed a heliocentric theory well before Copernicus.


                                 

One of the greatest Iranian mathematicians, scientists, philosophers as well as poets has been  Hakim Omar Khayyam Neyshaburi. Omar Khayyam's full name was Ghiyath al-Din Abu'l-Fath Omar ibn Ibrahim Al-Neyshaburi al-Khayyami
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« Reply #1 on: August 11, 2007, 07:29:38 am »






Early Life




Khayyam was born in Nishapur, then a Seljuk capital in Khorasan (present Northeast Iran), rivalling Cairo or Baghdad. He is thought to have been born into a family of tent makers (literally, al-khayyami means "tent maker"); later in life he would make this into a play on words:


Khayyam, 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!



He spent part of his childhood in the town of Balkh (present northern Afghanistan), studying under the well-known scholar Sheik Muhammad Mansuri. Subsequently, he studied under Imam Mowaffaq Nishapuri, who was considered one of the greatest teachers of the Khorassan region.

According to a well-known legend called Three Schoolmates, two other exceptional students studied under the Imam Mowaffaq at about the same time: Nizam-ul-Mulk (b. 1018), who went on to become the Vizier to the Seljukid Empire, and Hassan-i-Sabah (b.1034), who became the leader of the Hashshashin (Nizar Islaimi) sect. It was said that these students became friends, and after Nizam-ul-Mulk became Vizier, Hassan-i-Sabah and Omar Khayym each went to him, and asked to share in his good fortune. Hassan-i-Sabah demanded and was granted a place in the government, but he was ambitious, and was eventually removed from power after he participated in an unsuccessful effort to overthrow his benefactor, the Vizier. Omar Khayym was more modest and asked merely for a place to live, study science, and pray. He was granted a yearly pension of 1,200 mithkals of gold from the treasury of Nishapur. He lived on this pension for the rest of his life.
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« Reply #2 on: August 11, 2007, 07:30:51 am »


                                                                             
                                                   Omar Khayyam's tomb
                                                    Neishapur, Iran
                                                   


                                                             


                                                                         

Mathematician

 
Omar Khayyam was famous during his times as a mathematician. He wrote the influential Treatise on Demonstration of Problems of Algebra (1070), which laid down the principles of algebra, part of the body of Arabic Mathematics that was eventually transmitted to Europe. In particular, he derived general methods for solving cubic equations and even some higher orders:

From the Indians one has methods for obtaining square and cube roots, methods which are based on knowledge of individual cases, namely the knowledge of the squares of the nine digits 12, 22, 32 (etc.) and their respective products, i.e. 2 3 etc. We have written a treatise on the proof of the validity of those methods and that they satisfy the conditions. In addition we have increased their types, namely in the form of the determination of the fourth, fifth, sixth roots up to any desired degree. No one preceded us in this and those proofs are purely arithmetic, founded on the arithmetic of The Elements. - Omar Khayyam: Treatise on Demonstration of Problems of Algebra[3]
His method for solving cubic equations by intersecting a conic section with a circle (see some examples with a parabola worked out on a calculator[4]). Although his approach at achieving this had earlier been attempted by Menaechmus, Mahavira Acharya and others, Khayym provided a generalization extending it to all cubics. In addition he discovered the binomial expansion. His method for solving quadratic equations are also similar to what is used today.

In the Treatise he also wrote on the triangular array of binomial coefficients known as Pascal's triangle. In 1077, Omar wrote Sharh ma ashkala min musadarat kitab Uqlidis (Explanations of the Difficulties in the Postulates of Euclid). An important part of the book is concerned with Euclid's famous parallel postulate, which had also attracted the interest of Thabit ibn Qurra. Al-Haytham had previously attempted a demonstation of the postulate; Omar's attempt was a distinct advance, and his criticisms made their way to Europe, and may have contributed to the eventual development of non-Euclidean geometry.

Omar Khayym also had other notable work in geometry, specifically on the theory of proportions.


                                 
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« Reply #3 on: August 11, 2007, 07:32:40 am »






Astronomer


Like most mathematicians of the period, Omar Khayym was also famous as an astronomer. In 1073, the Seljuk dynasty Sultan Sultan Jalal al-Din Malekshah Saljuqi (Malik-Shah I, 1072-92), invited Khayym to build an observatory, along with various other distinguished scientists. Eventually, Khayym and his colleagues measured the length of the solar year as 365.24219858156 days (correct to six decimal places). This calendric measurement has only an 1 hour error every 5,500 years, whereas the Gregorian Calendar, adopted in Europe four centuries later, has a 1 day error in every 3,330 years, but is easier to calculate.




Calendar Reform

Omar Khayyam was part of a panel that introduced several reforms to the Persian calendar, largely based on ideas from the Hindu calendar. On March 15, 1079, Sultan Malik Shah I accepted this corrected calendar as the official Persian calendar.

This calendar was known as Jalali calendar after the Sultan, and was in force across Greater Iran from the 11th to the 20th centuries. It is the basis of the Iranian calendar which is followed today in Iran and Afghanistan. While the Jalali calendar is more accurate than the Gregorian, it is based on actual solar transit, (similar to Hindu calendars), and requires an Ephemeris for calculating dates. The lengths of the months can vary between 29 and 32 days depending on the moment when the sun crossed into a new zodiacal area (an attribute common to most Hindu calendars). This meant however, that seasonal errors were lower than in the Gregorian calendar.

The modern day Iranian calendar standardizes the month lengths based on a reform from 1925, thus minimizing the effect of solar transits. Seasonal errors are somewhat higher than in the Jalali version, but leap years are calculated as before.

Omar Khayym also built a star map (now lost), which was famous in the Persian and Islamic world.



Heliocentric Theory

It is said that Omar Khayyam also estimated and proved to an audience that included the then-prestigious and most respected scholar Imam Ghazali, that the universe is not moving around earth as was believed by all at that time. By constructing a revolving platform and simple arrangement of the star charts lit by candles around the circular walls of the room, he demonstrated that earth revolves on its axis, bringing into view different constellations throughout the night and day (completing a one-day cycle). He also elaborated that stars are stationary objects in space which if moving around earth would have been burnt to cinders due to their large mass. Some of these ideas may have been transmitted into the Christian science post Renaissance.

www.wikipedia.com
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« Reply #4 on: August 11, 2007, 07:37:08 am »

                                 







P O E T





Omar Khayym's poetic work has eclipsed his fame as a mathematician and scientist.


He is believed to have written about a thousand four-line verses or quatrains (rubaai's). In the English-speaking world, he was introduced through the The Rubiyt of Omar Khayym which are rather free-wheeling English translations by Edward Fitzgerald (1809-1883).

Other translations of parts the rubiyt (rubiyt meaning "quatrains") exist, but Fitzgerald's are the most well known. Translations also exist in languages other than English.

Omar Khayyam's personal beliefs are not very clearly known, but much is discernible from his poetic oeuvre. However, he was clearly quite liberal in his views; e.g. in one of his rubaiya, he apparently says: "Enjoy wine and women and don't be afraid, God has compassion".
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« Reply #5 on: August 11, 2007, 07:39:41 am »







Poetry



These poems were translated by Edward FitzGerald.

 
Khayyam, 12th century Persian poet and philosopher




And, as the **** crew, those who stood before
  The Tavern shouted - "Open then the Door!
You know how little time we have to stay,
  And once departed, may return no more."



Alike for those who for TO-DAY prepare,
  And that after a TO-MORROW stare,
A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries
  "Fools! your reward is neither Here nor There!"



Why, all the Saints and Sages who discuss'd
  Of the Two Worlds so learnedly, are thrust
Like foolish Prophets forth; their Words to Scorn
  Are scatter'd, and their mouths are stopt with Dust.



Oh, come with old Khayyam, and leave the Wise
  To talk; one thing is certain, that Life flies;
One thing is certain, and the Rest is Lies;
  The Flower that once has blown for ever dies.



Myself when young did eagerly frequent
  Doctor and Saint, and heard great Argument
About it and about: but evermore
  Came out of the same Door as in I went.



With them the Seed of Wisdom did I sow,
  And with my own hand labour'd it to grow:
And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd -
  "I came like Water, and like Wind I go."



Into this Universe, and why not knowing,
  Nor whence, like Water willy-nilly flowing:
And out of it, as Wind along the Waste,
  I know not whither, willy-nilly blowing.



The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
  Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
  Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.



And that inverted Bowl we call The Sky,
  Whereunder crawling coop't we live and die,
Lift not thy hands to It for help - for It
  Rolls impotently on as Thou or I.
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« Reply #6 on: August 11, 2007, 07:41:26 am »

                              





Views on Islam




Despite a strong Islamic training, it is unclear to what extent Omar Khayyam himself subscribed to Islamic precepts, including the existence of one God. However, it is almost certain that he objected to the notion that every particular event and phenomenon was the result of divine intervention. Nor did he believe in any Judgment Day or rewards and punishments after life. Instead he supported the view that laws of nature explained all phenomena of observed life. He came into conflict with religious officials several times, and had to explain his different views about Islam on several occasions.

Khayyam's viewpoint regarding Islam in general and its various aspects such as eschatology, Islamic taboos and divine revelation can be clearly realized through unbiased examination of his writings, particularly the quatrains that as a rule of thumb reflect his intrinsic conclusions. Although there are a great number of quatrains that are erroneously attributed to Khayyam that manifest a more colorful irreligiousness and hedonism, still the number of his original quatrains that advocate laws of nature and antagonize resurrection and eternal life readily outweigh others that may entail the slightest devotion or praise to God or Islamic beliefs. The following two quatrains are merely specimens amongst numerous others that serve to defy many facets of Islamic dogma:



 *O Mullah, We (people) do much more work than you do
* Even when we are drunk, we are still more sober than you * You drink (suck) people's blood and we drink the grapes blood(wine) * Let's be fair, which one of us is more immoral?خيام اگر ز باده مستى خوش باش
با ماه رخى اگر نشستى خوش باش
چون عاقبت كار جهان نيستى است
انگار كه نيستى، چو هستى خوش باش


which translates in Fitzgerald's work as:

And if the Wine you drink, the Lip you press,
End in the Nothing all Things end in Yes
Then fancy while Thou art, Thou art but what
Thou shalt be Nothing Thou shalt not be less.


The literal translation could read:

If with wine you are drunk be happy
if Seated with a moon-faced (beauty)? Be happy
Since the end purpose of the universe is nothing-ness
Hence then you shall be naught, then while you are, be happy!


آنانكه ز پيش رفته‌اند اى ساقى
درخاك غرور خفته‌اند اى ساقى
رو باده خور و حقيقت از من بشنو
باد است هرآنچه گفته‌اند اى ساقى


which Fitzgerald has boldy interpreted as:

Why, all the Saints and Sages who discussd
Of the Two Worlds so learnedly are thrust
Like foolish Prophets forth; their Words to Scorn
Are scatterd, and their Mouths are stopt with Dust.


The literal translation, in an ironic echo of "all is vanity", could read:

Those who have gone forth, thou cup-bearer
Have fallen upon the dust of pride, thou cup-bearer
Drink wine and hear from me the truth:
(Hot) air is all that they have said, thou cup-bearer.


Khayym eventually went on a hajj (pilgrimage) to Mecca in order to demonstrate that he was a faithful follower of Islam.
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« Reply #7 on: August 11, 2007, 07:50:30 am »









Cultural References



Salman Rushdie's novel Shame makes reference to Omar Khayyam with a character by the same name.

Khayym is quoted in Martin Luther King Jr.'s speech, Why I oppose the war in Vietnam. "It is time for all people of conscience to call upon America to come back home. Come home America. Omar Khayym is right 'The moving finger writes and having writ, moves on.'"




References

^ "Omar Khayyam". Encyclopdia Britannica. (2007). Retrieved on 2007-06-09.  Gives his name as Ghiyath al-Din Abu al-Fath 'Umar ibn Ibrahim al-Nisaburi al-Khayyami (the last two differ from the version here), and lists mathematician before poet in his identity.

^ a b Omar Khayyam. The MacTutor History of Mathematics archive.
 
^ Muslim extraction of roots. Mactutor History of Mathematics.

^ June Jones. Omar Khayyam and a Geometric Solution of the Cubic.

^ "Omar Khayyam". The Columbia Encyclopedia, Sixth Edition.. (2001-05). Retrieved on 2007-06-10. Here Omar Khayyam is described as "poet and mathematician", i.e. poet appearing first.




Other References


E.G. Browne. Literary History of Persia. (Four volumes, 2,256 pages, and 25 years in the writing). 1998. ISBN 0-700-70406-X

Jan Rypka, History of Iranian Literature. Reidel Publishing Company. 1968 OCLC 460598. ISBN 90-277-0143-1






 See also



List of Islamic scholars

List of Persian poets and authors

Persian literature

List of Iranian scientists

Omar Khayyam crater on the moon

Khayyam-Pascal's triangle

Wine, women and song





 External links



Wikiquote has a collection of quotations related to:
Omar KhayyamWikimedia Commons has media related to:
Omar KhayyamWorks by Omar Khayym at Project Gutenberg
 
The Persian Poet (http://www.omar-khayyam.org) - Contains the translations by Edward FitzGerald and a biography.

The Rubaiyat

On Omar's solutions to cubic equations

Khayyam, Umar. A biography by Professor Iraj Bashiri, University of Minnesota.

O'Connor, John J; Edmund F. Robertson "Omar Khayym". MacTutor History of Mathematics archive.   

The Quatrains of Omar Khayyam

The Keeper: The Legend of Omar Khayyam A recent movie depiction of Omar Khayyam's life

v d ePersian literature series

Middle Persian Denkard Book of Jamasp Book of Arda Viraf Karnamak-i Artaxshir-i Papakan



 
Classic literature Rūdakī (900s) Daqīqī (900s) Ferdowsī (ahnāma, 900s) Bābā Tāher (1000s) Nāṣir Khosrow (1004 - 1088) Omar Khayyām (1048-1131) Attār (1142 ca. 1220) Mowlana Rumi (1200s) Amīr Khosrow (1253 - 1325) Sa'adī (Būstān (1257) and Golestān (1258)) Hāfez (Dīvān, 1300s) Nizāmī (1141 1209) Jāmī (1400s)



Contemporary literature Sādeq Hedāyat Forough Farrokhzad āmlū Khalilollāh Khalilī Shahriar Loiq Sherali  Muhammad Iqbal . Parvin E'tesami



Persondata


NAME Khayym, Omar

ALTERNATIVE NAMES The Tentmaker; Khayyam, Omar;Chayyām, Omar;Omar-e Khayyam

SHORT DESCRIPTION Persian poet and mathematician

DATE OF BIRTH May 18, 1048

PLACE OF BIRTH Nishapur, Persia (Iran)

DATE OF DEATH December 4, 1131
                                                        

Retrieved from "http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Omar_Khayy%C3%A1m"
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« Reply #8 on: August 11, 2007, 08:22:14 am »








                                                    T H E   R U B A I Y A T




Depending on the sources of reference that one chooses, Omar Khayyam is believed to have composed somewhere between 200 and 600 Rubaiyat (quatrains). Some are known to be authentic and are attributed to him, while others seem to be combinations or corruption of his poetry, and whose origins are more dubious.

The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam is among the few masterpieces that has been translated into most languages, including English, French, German, Italian, Russian, Chinese, Hindi, Arabic, and Urdu.

The most famous translation of the Rubaiyat from Farsi into English was undertaken in 1859 by Edward J. Fitzgerald. It appears that in many of his translations, he has combined a few of the Rubaiyat to compose one, and sometimes it is difficult to trace and correspond the original to the translated version. However, he has tried his utmost to adhere to the spirit of the original poetry.

The Farsi collection presented in this web page is almost universally believed to be authentic and or his own original composition. At this time, it does not include all the Rubaiyat, though a significant proportion.

For the benefit of the non-Farsi speaking reader, I have included two translations. One is as a literal translation, with the aim of conveying the wording of the original poetry, leaving it to the reader to draw his/her own conclusions. And another is a "meaning" translation, with the intention of conveying the spirit of the poetry to the reader, (at least as understood by this author.)
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« Reply #9 on: August 11, 2007, 09:02:56 am »






I
Wake! For the Sun, who scatter'd into flight
The Stars before him from the Field of Night,
Drives Night along with them from Heav'n, and strikes
The Sultan's Turret with a Shaft of Light.


II
Before the phantom of False morning died,
Methought a Voice within the Tavern cried,
"When all the Temple is prepared within,
Why nods the drowsy Worshipper outside?"


III
And, as the **** crew, those who stood before
The Tavern shouted--"Open then the Door!
You know how little while we have to stay,
And, once departed, may return no more."


IV
Now the New Year reviving old Desires,
The thoughtful Soul to Solitude retires,
Where the White Hand Of Moses on the Bough
Puts out, and Jesus from the Ground suspires.


V
Iram indeed is gone with all his Rose,
And Jamshyd's Sev'n-ring'd Cup where no one knows;
But still a Ruby kindles in the Vine,
And many a Garden by the Water blows,


VI
And David's lips are lockt; but in divine
High-piping Pehlevi, with "Wine! Wine! Wine!
Red Wine!"--the Nightingale cries to the Rose
That sallow cheek of hers t' incarnadine.


VII
Come, fill the Cup, and in the fire of Spring
Your Winter-garment of Repentance fling:
The Bird of Time has but a little way
To flutter--and the Bird is on the Wing.


VIII
Whether at Naishapur or Babylon,
Whether the Cup with sweet or bitter run,
The Wine of Life keeps oozing drop by drop,
The Leaves of Life keep falling one by one.


IX
Each Morn a thousand Roses brings, you say;
Yes, but where leaves the Rose of Yesterday?
And this first Summer month that brings the Rose
Shall take Jamshyd and Kaikobad away.


X
Well, let it take them! What have we to do
With Kaikobad the Great, or Kaikhosru?
Let Zal and Rustum bluster as they will,
Or Hatim call to Supper--heed not you


XI
With me along the strip of Herbage strown
That just divides the desert from the sown,
Where name of Slave and Sultan is forgot--
And Peace to Mahmud on his golden Throne!


XII
A Book of Verses underneath the Bough,
A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread--and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness--
Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!


XIII
Some for the Glories of This World; and some
Sigh for the Prophet's Paradise to come;
Ah, take the Cash, and let the Credit go,
Nor heed the rumble of a distant Drum!


XIV
Look to the blowing Rose about us--"Lo,
Laughing," she says, "into the world I blow,
At once the silken tassel of my Purse
Tear, and its Treasure on the Garden throw."


XV
And those who husbanded the Golden grain,
And those who flung it to the winds like Rain,
Alike to no such aureate Earth are turn'd
As, buried once, Men want dug up again.


XVI
The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon
Turns Ashes--or it prospers; and anon,
Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty Face,
Lighting a little hour or two--is gone.


XVII
Think, in this batter'd Caravanserai
Whose Portals are alternate Night and Day,
How Sultan after Sultan with his Pomp
Abode his destined Hour, and went his way.


XVIII
They say the Lion and the Lizard keep
The Courts where Jamshyd gloried and drank deep:
And Bahram, that great Hunter--the Wild Ass
Stamps o'er his Head, but cannot break his Sleep.


XIX
I sometimes think that never blows so red
The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled;
That every Hyacinth the Garden wears
Dropt in her Lap from some once lovely Head.


X
And this reviving Herb whose tender Green
Fledges the River-Lip on which we lean--
Ah, lean upon it lightly! for who knows
From what once lovely Lip it springs unseen!


XXI
Ah, my Belov'ed fill the Cup that clears
To-day Past Regrets and Future Fears:
To-morrow!--Why, To-morrow I may be
Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n Thousand Years.


XXII
For some we loved, the loveliest and the best
That from his Vintage rolling Time hath prest,
Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before,
And one by one crept silently to rest.


XXIII
And we, that now make merry in the Room
They left, and Summer dresses in new bloom
Ourselves must we beneath the Couch of Earth
Descend--ourselves to make a Couch--for whom?


XXIV
Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,
Before we too into the Dust descend;
Dust into Dust, and under Dust to lie
Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and--sans End!


XXV
Alike for those who for To-day prepare,
And those that after some To-morrow stare,
A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries
"Fools! your Reward is neither Here nor There."


XXVI
Why, all the Saints and Sages who discuss'd
Of the Two Worlds so wisely--they are thrust
Like foolish Prophets forth; their Words to Scorn
Are scatter'd, and their Mouths are stopt with Dust.


XXVII
Myself when young did eagerly frequent
Doctor and Saint, and heard great argument
About it and about: but evermore
Came out by the same door where in I went.


XXVIII
With them the seed of Wisdom did I sow,
And with mine own hand wrought to make it grow;
And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd--
"I came like Water, and like Wind I go."


XXIX
Into this Universe, and Why not knowing
Nor Whence, like Water willy-nilly flowing;
And out of it, as Wind along the Waste,
I know not Whither, willy-nilly blowing.


XXX
What, without asking, hither hurried Whence?
And, without asking, Whither hurried hence!
Oh, many a Cup of this forbidden Wine
Must drown the memory of that insolence!


XXXI
Up from Earth's Centre through the Seventh Gate
rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate;
And many a Knot unravel'd by the Road;
But not the Master-knot of Human Fate.


XXXII
There was the Door to which I found no Key;
There was the Veil through which I might not see:
Some little talk awhile of Me and Thee
There was--and then no more of Thee and Me.


XXXIII
Earth could not answer; nor the Seas that mourn
In flowing Purple, of their Lord forlorn;
Nor rolling Heaven, with all his Signs reveal'd
And hidden by the sleeve of Night and Morn.


XXXIV
Then of the Thee in Me works behind
The Veil, I lifted up my hands to find
A Lamp amid the Darkness; and I heard,
As from Without--"The Me Within Thee Blind!"


XXXV
Then to the lip of this poor earthen Urn
I lean'd, the Secret of my Life to learn:
And Lip to Lip it murmur'd--"While you live
Drink!--for, once dead, you never shall return."


XXXVI
I think the Vessel, that with fugitive
Articulation answer'd, once did live,
And drink; and Ah! the passive Lip I kiss'd,
How many Kisses might it take--and give!


XXXVII
For I remember stopping by the way
To watch a Potter thumping his wet Clay:
And with its all-obliterated Tongue
It murmur'd--"Gently, Brother, gently, pray!"


XXXVIII
And has not such a Story from of Old
Down Man's successive generations roll'd
Of such a clod of saturated Earth
Cast by the Maker into Human mould?


XXXIX
And not a drop that from our Cups we throw
For Earth to drink of, but may steal below
To quench the fire of Anguish in some Eye
There hidden--far beneath, and long ago.


XL
As then the Tulip for her morning sup
Of Heav'nly Vintage from the soil looks up,
Do you devoutly do the like, till Heav'n
To Earth invert you--like an empty Cup.


XLI
Perplext no more with Human or Divine,
To-morrow's tangle to the winds resign,
And lose your fingers in the tresses of
The Cypress--slender Minister of Wine.


XLII
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.


XLIII
So when that Angel of the darker Drink
At last shall find you by the river-brink,
And, offering his Cup, invite your Soul
Forth to your Lips to quaff--you shall not shrink.


XLIV
Why, if the Soul can fling the Dust aside,
And naked on the Air of Heaven ride,
Were't not a Shame--were't not a Shame for him
In this clay carcase crippled to abide?


XLV
'Tis but a Tent where takes his one day's rest
A Sultan to the realm of Death addrest;
The Sultan rises, and the dark Ferrash
Strikes, and prepares it for another Guest.


XLVI
And fear not lest Existence closing your
Account, and mine, should know the like no more;
The Eternal Saki from that Bowl has pour'd
Millions of Bubbles like us, and will pour.


XLVII
When You and I behind the Veil are past,
Oh, but the long, long while the World shall last,
Which of our Coming and Departure heeds
As the Sea's self should heed a pebble-cast.


XLVIII
A Moment's Halt--a momentary taste
Of Being from the Well amid the Waste--
And Lo!--the phantom Caravan has reach'd
The Nothing it set out from--Oh, make haste!


XLIX
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?


L
A Hair perhaps divides the False and True;
Yes; and a single Alif were the clue--
Could you but find it--to the Treasure-house,
And peradventure to The Master too;


LI
Whose secret Presence, through Creation's veins
Running Quicksilver-like eludes your pains;
Taking all shapes from Mah to Mahi; and
They change and perish all--but He remains;


LII
A moment guess'd--then back behind the Fold
Immerst of Darkness round the Drama roll'd
Which, for the Pastime of Eternity,
He doth Himself contrive, enact, behold.


LIII
But if in vain, down on the stubborn floor
Of Earth, and up to Heav'n's unopening Door
You gaze To-day, while You are You--how then
To-morrow, You when shall be You no more?


LIV
Waste not your Hour, nor in the vain pursuit
Of This and That endeavour and dispute;
Better be jocund with the fruitful Grape
Than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit.


LV
You know, my Friends, with what a brave Carouse
I made a Second Marriage in my house;
Divorced old barren Reason from my Bed
And took the Daughter of the Vine to Spouse.


LVI
For "Is" and "Is-not" though with Rule and Line
And "Up" and "Down" by Logic I define,
Of all that one should care to fathom,
Was never deep in anything but--Wine.


LVII
Ah, but my Computations, People say,
Reduced the Year to better reckoning?--Nay
'Twas only striking from the Calendar
Unborn To-morrow, and dead Yesterday.


LVIII
And lately, by the Tavern Door agape,
Came shining through the Dusk an Angel Shape
Bearing a Vessel on his Shoulder; and
He bid me taste of it; and 'twas--the Grape!


LIX
The Grape that can with Logic absolute
The Two-and-Seventy jarring Sects confute:
The sovereign Alchemist that in a trice
Life's leaden metal into Gold transmute:


LX
The mighty Mahmud, 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.


LXI
Why, be this Juice the growth of God, who dare
Blaspheme the twisted tendril as a Snare?
A Blessing, we should use it, should we not?
And if a Curse--why, then, Who set it there?


LXII
I must abjure the Balm of Life, I must,
Scared by some After-reckoning ta'en on trust,
Or lured with Hope of some Diviner Drink,
To fill the Cup--when crumbled into Dust!


LXIII
Oh, 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.


LXIV
Strange, is it not? that of the myriads who
Before us pass'd the door of Darkness through,
Not one returns to tell us of the Road,
Which to discover we must travel too.


LXV
The Revelations of Devout and Learn'd
Who rose before us, and as Prophets burn'd,
Are all but Stories, which, awoke from Sleep,
They told their comrades, and to Sleep return'd.


LXVI
I sent my Soul through the Invisible,
Some letter of that After-life to spell:
And by and by my Soul return'd to me,
And answer'd "I Myself am Heav'n and Hell:"


LXVII
Heav'n but the Vision of fulfill'd Desire,
And Hell the Shadow from a Soul on fire,
Cast on the Darkness into which Ourselves,
So late emerged from, shall so soon expire.


LXVIII
We are no other than a moving row
Of Magic Shadow-shapes that come and go
Round with the Sun-illumined Lantern held
In Midnight by the Master of the Show;


LXIX
But helpless Pieces of the Game He plays
Upon this Chequer-board of Nights and Days;
Hither and thither moves, and checks, and slays,
And one by one back in the Closet lays.


LXX
The Ball no question makes of Ayes and Noes,
But Here or There as strikes the Player goes;
And He that toss'd you down into the Field,
He knows about it all--He knows--HE knows!


LXXI
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.


LXXII
And that inverted Bowl they call the Sky,
Whereunder crawling coop'd we live and die,
Lift not your hands to It for help--for It
As impotently moves as you or I.


LXXIII
With Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man knead,
And there of the Last Harvest sow'd the Seed:
And the first Morning of Creation wrote
What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read.


LXXIV
Yesterday This Day's Madness did prepare;
To-morrow's Silence, Triumph, or Despair:
Drink! for you know not whence you came, nor why:
Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.


LXXV
I tell you this--When, started from the Goal,
Over the flaming shoulders of the Foal
Of Heav'n Parwin and Mushtari they flung
In my predestined Plot of Dust and Soul.


LXXVI
The Vine had struck a fibre: which about
If clings my being--let the Dervish flout;
Of my Base metal may be filed a Key,
That shall unlock the Door he howls without.


LXXVII
And this I know: whether the one True Light
Kindle to Love, or Wrath-consume me quite,
One Flash of It within the Tavern caught
Better than in the Temple lost outright.


LXXVIII
What! out of senseless Nothing to provoke
A conscious Something to resent the yoke
Of unpermitted Pleasure, under pain
Of Everlasting Penalties, if broke!


LXXIX
What! from his helpless Creature be repaid
Pure Gold for what he lent him dross-allay'd--
Sue for a Debt he never did contract,
And cannot answer--Oh, the sorry trade!


LXXX
Oh, Thou, who didst with pitfall and with gin
Beset the Road I was to wander in,
Thou wilt not with Predestined Evil round
Enmesh, and then impute my Fall to Sin!


LXXXI
Oh, Thou who Man of baser Earth didst make,
And ev'n with Paradise devise the Snake:
For all the Sin wherewith the Face of Man
Is blacken'd--Man's forgiveness give--and take!


LXXXII
As under cover of departing Day
Slunk hunger-stricken Ramazan away,
Once more within the Potter's house alone
I stood, surrounded by the Shapes of Clay.


LXXXIII
Shapes of all Sorts and Sizes, great and small,
That stood along the floor and by the wall;
And some loquacious Vessels were; and some
Listen'd perhaps, but never talk'd at all.


LXXXIV
Said one among them--"Surely not in vain
My substance of the common Earth was ta'en
And to this Figure moulded, to be broke,
Or trampled back to shapeless Earth again."


LXXXV
Then said a Second--"Ne'er a peevish Boy
Would break the Bowl from which he drank in joy,
And He that with his hand the Vessel made
Will surely not in after Wrath destroy."


LXXXVI
After a momentary silence spake
Some Vessel of a more ungainly Make;
"They sneer at me for leaning all awry:
What! did the Hand then of the Potter shake?"


LXXXVII
Whereat some one of the loquacious Lot--
I think a Sufi pipkin-waxing hot--
"All this of Pot and Potter--Tell me then,
Who is the Potter, pray, and who the Pot?"


LXXXVIII
"Why," said another, "Some there are who tell
Of one who threatens he will toss to Hell
The luckless Pots he marr'd in making--Pish!
He's a Good Fellow, and 'twill all be well."


LXXXIX
"Well," Murmur'd one, "Let whoso make or buy,
My Clay with long Oblivion is gone dry:
But fill me with the old familiar juice,
Methinks I might recover by and by."


XC
So while the Vessels one by one were speaking,
The little Moon look'd in that all were seeking:
And then they jogg'd each other, "Brother! Brother!
Now for the Porter's shoulder-knot a-creaking!"


XCI
Ah, with the Grape my fading Life provide,
And wash the Body whence the Life has died,
And lay me, shrouded in the living Leaf,
By some not unfrequented Garden-side.


XCII
That ev'n my buried Ashes such a snare
Of Vintage shall fling up into the Air
As not a True-believer passing by
But shall be overtaken unaware.


XCIII
Indeed the Idols I have loved so long
Have done my credit in this World much wrong:
Have drown'd my Glory in a shallow Cup
And sold my Reputation for a Song.


XCIV
Indeed, indeed, Repentance of before
I swore--but was I sober when I swore?
And then and then came Spring, and Rose-in-hand
My thread-bare Penitence apieces tore.


XCV
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.


XCVI
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!


XCVII
Would but the Desert of the Fountain yield
One glimpse--if dimly, yet indeed, reveal'd,
To which the fainting Traveller might spring,
As springs the trampled herbage of the field!


XCVIII
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!


XCIX
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!


C
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!


CI
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!



THE END


http://www.fordham.edu/halsall/basis/omarkhayyam-fitz.html
« Last Edit: August 11, 2007, 02:07:53 pm by Bianca2001 » Report Spam   Logged

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« Reply #10 on: August 11, 2007, 01:34:11 pm »






Literal English translation in quatrain form by: Shahriar Shahriari

 

In childhood we strove to go to school,
Our turn to teach, joyous as a rule
The end of the story is sad and cruel
From dust we came, and gone with winds cool.
 

Heaven is incomplete without a heavenly romance
Let a glass of wine be my present circumstance
Take what is here now, let go of a promised chance
A drumbeat is best heard from a distance.
 

This Old World we've named Cosmos by mistake
Is the graveyard of nights & days, no more awake
And a feast that hundred Jamshid's did break
And a throne that hundred Bahram's did make.
 

This clay pot like a lover once in heat
A lock of hair his senses did defeat
The handle that has made the bottleneck its own seat
Was once the embrace of a lover that entreat.
 

The palace where Jamshid held his cup
The doe and the fox now rest and sup
Bahram who hunted game non-stop
Was hunted by death when his time was up.
 

Tonight I shall embrace a gallon cup
With at least two cups of wine I'll sup
I'll divorce my mind and religion stop
With daughter of vine, all night I'll stay up.
 

Alas the youthful fire is a dying ember
The spring of life has reached December
What is termed youth, I vaguely remember
But know not whence and how from life's chamber.
 

Those who went in pursuit of knowledge
Soared up so high, stretched the edge
Were still encaged by the same dark hedge
Brought us some tales ere life to death pledge.
« Last Edit: August 11, 2007, 05:48:13 pm by Bianca2001 » Report Spam   Logged

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« Reply #11 on: August 11, 2007, 01:36:09 pm »






They say in heaven are beautiful lovers
Sweet taste of wine in the air hovers
Fear not if succumbed to same earthly powers
In the end the same, one discovers.
 

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.
 

Khayyam, if you are intoxicated with wine, enjoy!
If you are seated with a lover of thine, enjoy!
In the end, the Void the whole world employ
Imagine thou art not, while waiting in line, enjoy!
 

All my companions, one by one died
With Angel of Death they now reside
In the banquette of life same wine we tried
A few cups back, they fell to the side.
 

Drinking wine is my travail
Till my body is dead and stale
At my grave site all shall hail
Odor of wine shall prevail.
 

Once upon a time, in a potter's shop
I saw two thousand clay pot and cup
Suddenly a lone pot cried out, "stop!
Where the vendor, buyer, where my prop?"
 

The hands of fate play our game
We the players are given a name
Some are tame, others gain fame
Yet in the end, we're all the same.
 

The caravan of life shall always pass
Beware that is fresh as sweet young grass
Let's not worry about what tomorrow will amass
Fill my cup again, this night will pass, alas.
« Last Edit: August 11, 2007, 06:38:53 pm by Bianca2001 » Report Spam   Logged

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« Reply #12 on: August 11, 2007, 01:37:58 pm »






At dawn came a calling from the tavern
Hark drunken mad man of the cavern
Arise; let us fill with wine one more turn
Before destiny fills our cup, our urn.
 

When the canary made its way to the field
Found the rose and wine smiling, kneeled,
In tongues its message in my ear it thus reeled
Hark, no moment in time did twice yield.
 

The day the stallion of time was tamed and trained
Venus and Jupiter were adorned and stained
This life for us was allotted and ordained
This was not our will; were thus chained and restrained.
 

Happily I walked with the tavern down the line
Passed an old drunk, holding a bottle of wine
"Do you not fear God?" was reproach of mine
said, "Mercy is God's sign, in silence I wine and dine."
 

The secrets eternal neither you know nor I
And answers to the riddle neither you know nor I
Behind the veil there is much talk about us, why
When the veil falls, neither you remain nor I.
 

I brought the cup to my lips with greed
Begging for longevity, my temporal need
Cup brought its to mine, its secret did feed
Time never returns, drink, of this take heed.
 

As the rising Venus and moon in the skies appear
To the goodness of quality wine, nothing comes near
I am amazed at the vendors of a liquid so dear
Where they'll buy a better thing, is not clear.
 

Some are thoughtful on their way
Some are doubtful, so they pray
I hear the hidden voice that may
Shout, "Both paths lead astray."
« Last Edit: August 11, 2007, 06:41:18 pm by Bianca2001 » Report Spam   Logged

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« Reply #13 on: August 11, 2007, 01:39:41 pm »






Like God, if this world I could control
Eliminating the world would be my role
I would create the world anew, whole
Such that the free soul would attain desired goal.
 

This cup was made by the Wise Lord
With love & care to the heights soared
The potter who shaped with such accord
To make and break the same clay, can also afford.
 

Good and evil, our moral prison,
Joy and sorrow passing like season,
Fate in the way of logic and reason
Is the victim of far worse treason.
 

Why treat thy slave so cold as ice?
Where is thy light to save me from vice?
Even with command of Paradise
Where is thy gift above my just price?
 

Hark! Feed me wine, if you really care
Turn into ruby my face of amber
Bathe me in wine when death me ensnare
With boards of vine my coffin bear.
 

Wherever you go in the land of God
Flowers bloom from kingly blood
Violet with its colourful shroud
Was a beauty mole on a face once proud.
 

An old potter at his wheel
Clay and dirt mould and deal
My inner eye would reveal
My father's dust bears his seal.
 

The grass that grows by every stream
Like angelic smiles faintly gleam
Step gently, cause it not to scream
For it has grown from a lover's dream.

 


                                   
                                    OMAR KHAYYAM'S TOMB
                                     Neishapur, Iran
   

http://www.iranchamber.com/literature/khayyam/rubaiyat_khayyam4.php
« Last Edit: August 11, 2007, 06:53:57 pm by Bianca2001 » Report Spam   Logged

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