large/1708/rubaiyat_a_librivox_64kb_mp3/rubaiyat_1_khayyam_64kb_69
large/1708/rubaiyat_a_librivox_64kb_mp3/rubaiyat_1_khayyam_64kb
English
1708
Alas, that Spring should vanish with the Rose! That Youth's sweet scented Manuscript should close! The Nightingale that in the Branches sang, Ah, whence, and whither flown again, who knows! ALAS THAT SPRING SHOULD VANISH WITH THE ROSE THAT YOUTH'S SWEET SCENTED MANUSCRIPT SHOULD CLOSE THE NIGHTINGALE THAT IN THE BRANCHES SANG AH WHENCE AND WHITHER FLOWN AGAIN WHO KNOWS
peaking, One spied the little Crescent all were seeking: And then they jogg'd each other, "Brother! Brother! Hark to the Porter's Shoulder-knot a-creaking!" ***** LXVII. Ah, with the Grape my fading Life provide, And wash my Body whence the life has died, And in a Windingsheet of Vineleaf wrapt, So bury me by some sweet Gardenside. LXVIII. That ev'n my buried Ashes such a Snare Of Perfume shall fling up into the Air, As not a True Believer passing by But shall be overtaken unaware. LXIX. Indeed, the Idols I have loved so long Have done my Credit in Men's Eye much wrong: Have drown'd my Honour in a shallow Cup, And sold my Reputation for a Song. LXX. Indeed, indeed, Repentance oft before I swore--but was I sober when I swore? And then and then came Spring, and Rose-in-hand My thread-bare Penitence a-pieces tore. LXXI. And much as Wine has play'd the Infidel, And robb'd me of my Robe of Honour--well, I often wonder what the Vintners buy One half so precious as the Goods they sell. LXXII. UICE METHINKS I MIGHT RECOVER BY AND BY SO ALL THE VESSELS ONE BY ONE WERE SPEAKING ONE SPIED THE LITTLE CRESCENT ALL WERE SEEKING AND THEN THEY JOGGED EACH OTHER BROTHER BROTHER HEART TO THE POTTER'S SHOULDER NOT TO CREAKING AH WOULD THE GREAT MY FADING LIFE PROVIDE AND WASH MY BODY WHENCE THE LIFE HAS DIED AND IN A WINDING SHEET OF VINE LEAF WRAPPED SO BURY ME BY SOME SWEET GARDEN SIDE THAT E'EN MY BURIED ASHES SUCH A SNARE OF PERFUME SHALL FLING UP INTO THE AIR AS NOT A TRUER PASSING BY BUT SHALL BE OVERTAKEN UNAWARE INDEED THE IDOLS I HAVE LOVED SO LONG HAVE DONE MY CREDIT IN MEN'S EYE MUCH WRONG HAVE DROWNED MY HONOUR IN A SHALLOW CUP AND SOLD MY REPUTATION FOR A SONG INDEED INDEED REPENTANCE OFT BEFORE I SWORE BUT WAS I SOBER WHEN I SWORE AND THEN AND THEN CAME SPRING AND ROSE IN HAND MY THREADBARE PENITENCE A PIECES TORE AND MUCH AS WINE HAS PLAYED THE INFIDEL AND ROBBED ME OF MY ROBE OF HONOUR WELL I OFTEN WONDER WHAT THE VINTNERS BUY ONE HALF SO PRECIOUS AS THE GOODS THEY SELL
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