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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

Dead yesterdays and unborn tomorrows, why fret about it, if today be sweet.
OMAR KHAYYAM

Born Death Future Past Present
Give me a flagon of red wine, a book of verses, a loaf of bread, and a little idleness. If with such store I might sit by thy dear side in some lonely place, I should deem myself happier than a king in his kingdom.
OMAR KHAYYAM

Book Food Freedom Happiness Lonely Myself Place Satisfaction Wine
The Stars are setting and the Caravan Starts for the Dawn of Nothing-Oh, make haste!
OMAR KHAYYAM

Morning Stars Start
Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.
OMAR KHAYYAM

Deep Happiness Life Moments Yourself
The thoughtful soul to solitude retires.
OMAR KHAYYAM

Solitude Soul Thinking
Tomorrow! – Why, tomorrow I may be Myself with yesterday’s sev’n thousand years.
OMAR KHAYYAM

Future Myself Time
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
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
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
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
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
He who has one enemy shall meet him everywhere.
OMAR KHAYYAM

Enemy Friendship Himself Oneself
The rose that once has bloomed forever dies.
OMAR KHAYYAM

Bloom Death Rose
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
Better be jocund with the fruitful Grape Than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit.
OMAR KHAYYAM

Better Fruit Pleasure Sadness

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

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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

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Popular Authors

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