Re: Omar Khayyam and his Magnificient Rubaiyat
Reply #13 - November 26, 2009, 07:05 AM
I have posted these somewhere else on this forum before but here are some of my favourite verses from Khayyam's Rubaiyat. The original is very long, but definitely worth reading over and over. I haven't read him in Persian, though I've been wanting to learn Persian so that I can. He was a brilliant thinker and an incredible writer. I really like Richard LeGallienne's translation of the Rubaiyat, that's the translation here:
RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM
You want to know the Secret--so did I,
Low in the dust I sought it, and on high
Sought it in awful flight from star to star,
The Sultan's watchman of the starry sky.
Up, up, where Parwin's hoofs stamp heaven's floor,
My soul went knocking at each starry door,
Till on the stilly top of heaven's stair,
Clear-eyed I looked--and laughed--and climbed no more.
Of all my seeking this is all my gain:
No agony of any mortal brain
Shall wrest the secret of the life of man;
The Search has taught me that the Search is vain.
Look not above, there is no answer there;
Pray not, for no one listens to your prayer;
Near is as near to God as any Far,
And Here is just the same deceit as There.
But here are wine and beautiful young girls,
Be wise and hide your Sorrows in their curls,
Dive as you will in life's mysterious sea,
You shall not bring us any better pearls.
Allah, perchance, the secret word might spell;
If Allah be, He keeps His secret well;
What He hath hidden, who shall hope to find?
Shall God His secret to a maggot tell?
So since with all my passion and my skill,
The world's mysterious meaning mocks me still,
Shall I not piously believe that I
Am kept in darkness by the heavenly will?
The Koran! well, come put me to the test--
Lovely old book in hideous error drest--
Believe me, I can quote the Koran too,
The unbeliever knows his Koran best.
And do you think that unto such as you,
A maggot-minded, starved, fanatic crew,
God gave the Secret, and denied it to me?--
Well, well, what matters it! believe that too.
If I were God, and this poor world were mine,
O thou shouldst see on what a fair design
I would rebuild it like a dream for thee,
Nor shouldst thou ever blush to call it thine.
If I were God, the very stars and flowers
Should be more fair, and all the sterns and sours
Change to a music sweet as rivers flowing--
If I were God, and this poor world were ours.
If I were God, I would not wait the years
To solve the mystery of human tears;
And, unambiguous, I would speak my will,
Nor hint it darkly to the dreaming seers.
Life is too short, dear brother, to be sad;
If you must needs be anything--be glad;
Leave bitter books, and read the Book of Joy--
I know that some declare the book is bad.
Eternal torment some sour wits foretell
For those who follow wine and love too well,--
Fear not, for God were left alone in Heaven
If all the lovely lovers burnt in hell.
He who believes in hell and knows Thy grace
Shall surely find in hell his resting-place,
Keep for the mosque these fables of Thy wrath-
No man believes them who hath seen Thy face.
To all of us the thought of heaven is dear--
Why not be sure of it and make it here?
No doubt there is a heaven yonder too,
But 'tis so far away--and you are near.
Men talk of heaven,--there is no heaven but here;
Men talk of hell,--there is no hell but here;
Men of hereafters talk, and future lives,--
O love, there is no other life--but here.
Passionate particles of dust and sun,
Run your brief race, nor ask why it is run--
We are but shadow-pictures, voices, dreams;
Perchance they make and break us--just for fun.
O Love, I come to worship in your shrine,
There is no part of you is not divine,
There is no part of you not human too,
There is no part of you that is not mine;
'Tis a great fuss, all this of Thee and Me,
Important folk are we--to Thee and Me;
Yet what if we mean nothing after all,
And what if Heaven cares nought--for Thee and Me?
All those who in their graves unheeded lie
Were just as pompous once as You and I,
Complacent spake their little arrogant names,
And wagged their heads, and never thought to die.
Would you seek beauty, seek it underground;
Would you find strength--the strong are underground;
And would you next year seek my love and me,
Who knows but you must seek us--underground?
O heart, my heart, the world is weary-wise,
My only resting-place is your deep eyes,
O wrap me warm in their illusive love,--
For well I know that they are also lies.
Sometimes as, cup in hand among the flowers,
I think on all my witty wasted hours,
I see that wine has been a fable too,
Yes! even wine--so false a world is ours.
Yet were it vain some other way to try,
Of all our lying wine is least a lie,
All earthly roads wind nowhere in the end,---
What matters then the road we travel by?
I personally think, based on his words, that Khayyam was probably agnostic, definitely not a religionist, more of a hedonist-pantheist than a typical Muslim.
"Blessed are they who can laugh at themselves, for they shall never cease to be amused."