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The rose that once has bloomed forever dies.

Omar Khayyam

Think, in this batter’d Caravanserai Whose portals are alternate Night and Day, How Sultan after Sultan with his Pomp Abode his destin’d Hour and went his way.
OMAR KHAYYAM

Day Destination Himself Life Night Thinking
Here’s to the man Who owns the land That bears the grapes That makes the wine That tastes as good As this does.
OMAR KHAYYAM

Food Goodness Men Taste Wine
And that inverted Bowl they call the Sky, Whereunder crawling cooped we live and die, Lift not your hands to It for help-for it As impotently moves as you or I
OMAR KHAYYAM

Death Hands Help Live Move On Perspective Sky Yourself
The secret must be kept from all non-people. The mystery must be hidden from all idiots.
OMAR KHAYYAM

Hide Mystery People Secret Stupidity
Tomorrow! – Why, tomorrow I may be Myself with yesterday’s sev’n thousand years.
OMAR KHAYYAM

Future Myself Time
Yes, the first morning of creation wrote what the last dawn of reckoning shall read.
OMAR KHAYYAM

Creation Morning Reading Writing
Oh! My beloved! fill the cup, that clears to-day of past regrets and future fears.
OMAR KHAYYAM

Fear Future Love Past Regret Relationship Wine
Don’t cry upon your losses Don’t measure today with tomorows Don’t trust to be passed and coming day believe in now – and be happy today.
OMAR KHAYYAM

Believe Happiness Loss Present Trust Wisdom Yourself
Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring The Winter Garment of Repentance fling: The Bird of Time has but a little way To fly-and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing.
OMAR KHAYYAM

Fire Spiritual Spring Time Wings Winter
Drink! for you know not when you came, nor why; Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.
OMAR KHAYYAM

Alcohol Drink Travel Yourself
The Flower that once has blown forever dies.
OMAR KHAYYAM

Death Flower Forever
We are in truth but pieces on this chess board of life, which in the end we leave, only to drop one by one into the grave of nothingness.
OMAR KHAYYAM

End Game Grave Leaving Life Pieces Truth
But helpless Pieces of the Game He plays Upon this Checker-board of Nights and Days; Hither and thither moves, and checks, and slays, And one by one back in the Closet lays.
OMAR KHAYYAM

Game Help Night Oneself Pieces Play
I hide my grief, just like the blessed birds hide themselves when they are preparing to die, my love.
OMAR KHAYYAM

Blessing Death Grief Hide Love Myself Preparation
This clay, so strong of heart, of sense so fine, Surely such clay is more than half divine–‘Tis only fools speak evil of the clay, The very stars are made of clay like mine.
OMAR KHAYYAM

Divine Fools Heart Stars Strong Talk
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.
OMAR KHAYYAM

Fingers Move On Tears Writing

The rose that once has bloomed forever dies.

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The rose that once has bloomed forever dies.

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