So I Be Written In

You've Seen The World, And All You've Seen Is Nothing; And Everything, As Well, That You Have Said And Heard Is Nothing. You've Sprinted Everywhere Between Here And The Horizon; It Is Nothing. And All The Possessions You've Treasured Up At Home Are Nothing.

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

I Hide My Grief, Just Like The Blessed Birds Hide Themselves When They Are Preparing To Die, My Love.

I Wonder What The Vintners Buy One Half So Precious As The Stuff They Sell.

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.