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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

Oh, the brave Music of a distant drum!
OMAR KHAYYAM

Brave Distance Music War
Heaven but the vision of fulfilled desire, and Hell the shadow from a soul on fire.
OMAR KHAYYAM

Deep Fire Heaven Hell Shadow Soul Vision
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 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.
OMAR KHAYYAM

Atheist Rose Sleep Story Wake Up
To be free of belief and unbelief is my religion.
OMAR KHAYYAM

Belief Freedom Religion Thinking
The Stars are setting and the Caravan Starts for the Dawn of Nothing-Oh, make haste!
OMAR KHAYYAM

Morning Stars Start
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
Hearts are like tapers, which at beauteous eyes Kindle a flame of love that never dies; And beauty is a flame, where hearts, like moths, Offer themselves a burning sacrifice.
OMAR KHAYYAM

Burn Death Eyes Flame Heart Love Sacrifice
Why ponder thus the future to foresee, and jade thy brain to vain perplexity? Cast off thy care, leave Allah’s plans to him – He formed them all without consulting thee.
OMAR KHAYYAM

Care Future God Himself Planning
Dust into Dust, and under Dust to lie, Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and-sans End!
OMAR KHAYYAM

Death Lying Sing
Justice is the soul of the universe.
OMAR KHAYYAM

Deep Justice One Liner Soul Universe
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 scattered, and their mouths are stopped with Dust.
OMAR KHAYYAM

Fools Saint Stop World
The moving finger writes; and having writ, moves on.
OMAR KHAYYAM

Break Fingers Move On Silence Writing
Thy Return is as another Sun to Heaven; a new Rose blooming in the Garden of the Soul.
OMAR KHAYYAM

Bloom Garden Heaven Love Rose
Into this universe, and why not knowing Nor whence, like water willy-nilly flowing; And out of it, as wind along the wate, I know not whither, willy-nilly blowing.
OMAR KHAYYAM

Blow Universe Water Wind
A hair divides what is false and true.
OMAR KHAYYAM

Fake Hairs True Truth

Here’s to the man Who owns the land That bears the grapes That makes the wine That tastes as good As this does.

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Here’s to the man Who owns the land That bears the grapes That makes the wine That tastes as good As this does.

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Popular Authors

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