The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayam Translated by Edward Fitzgerald

Wake!

For the Sun, who scattered into flight

The Stars before him from the Field of Night,

Drives Night along with them from Heav'n and strikes

The Sultán's Turret with a Shaft of Light.

And, as the Cock crew, those who stood before

Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring

The Winter Garment of Repentance fling:

The Bird of Time has but a little way

To fly -- and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing.

The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon

Turns Ashes -- or it prospers; and anon,

Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty Face

Lighting a little Hour or two -- is gone.

Think, in this batter'd Caravanserai

Whose Doorways are alternate Night and Day,

How Sultan after Sultan with his Pomp

Abode his Hour or two and went his way.

Ah, my Beloved, fill the Cup that clears

TO-DAY of past Regrets and future Fears: 

To-morrow! Why, To-morrow I may be

Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n thousand Years.

For some we loved, the loveliest and the best 

That from his Vintage rolling Time has prest,

Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before,

And one by one crept silently to rest

Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,

Before we too into the Dust descend;

Dust into Dust, and under Dust, to lie,

Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and--sans End!

Oh threats of Hell and Hopes of Paradise!

One thing at least is certain--This Life flies:

One thing is certain and the rest is lies;

The Flower that once is blown for ever dies