I Hide My Grief, Just

Dust Into Dust, And Under Dust To Lie, Sans Wine, Sans Song, Sans Singer, And-sans End!

I Hide My Distress, Just Likethe Blessed Birds Hide Themselveswhen They Are Preparing To Die. Wine! Wine, Roses, Music And Yourindifference To My Sadness, My Loved-one!

Heaven But The Vision Of Fulfilled Desire, And Hell The Shadow From A Soul On Fire.

Alas, That Spring Should Vanish With The Rose! That Youths Sweet-scented Manuscript Should Close!

How Much More Of The Mosque, Of Prayer And Fasting? Better Go Drunk And Begging Round The Taverns. Khayyam, Drink Wine, For Soon This Clay Of Yours Will Make A Cup, Bowl, One Day A Jar. When Once You Hear The Roses Are In Bloom, Then Is The Time, My Love, To Pour The Wine; Houris And Palaces And Heaven And Hell- These Are But Fairy-tales, Forget Them All.