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review رباعیات خیام ↠ E-book, or Kindle E-pub ☆ Popular E-Book, رباعیات خیام author Omar Khayyám There are many interesting things in this book, readers are very amazed by the contents of the book رباعیات خیام author Omar Khayyám please download or read online hereرباعیات خیام author Omar Khayyám please download or read online he. In 1942 when my father was in the South Pacific he asked for only one thing for Christmasthis book of poetry My mother sent it to him with an inscription in the frontispiece which spoke wistfully of days to come Later he sent her a photo of him reading this book leaning back on a palm tree with a bottle of wine and a loaf of bread on the cloth beside himon the back of the photo he wrote all I'm missing is thouObviously this book is a family treasure and I cannot read it without remembering my parent's great love affairCome 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 Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough A Flask of Wine A Book of Verse and Thou Beside me singing in the Wilderness And Wilderness is Paradise enow

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Popular E Book رباعیات خیام author Omar Khayyám There are many inte. The Ruba'iyat of Omar Khayyam Omar Khayyám Edward FitzGerald TranslatorWritten 1120 ACE Omar Khayyam was born at Naishapur in Khorassan in the latter half of Eleventh Century and died within the First uarter of Twelfth Century I Wake For the Sun who scatter'd into flight The Stars before him from the Field of NightDrives Night along with them from Heav'n and strikes The Sultan's Turret with a Shaft of LightII Before the phantom of False morning diedMethought a Voice within the Tavern cried When all the Temple is prepared withinWhy nods the drowsy Worshipper outside III And as the Cock crew those who stood beforeThe Tavern shouted Open then the DoorYou know how little while we have to stay And once departed may return no IV Now the New Year reviving old Desires The thoughtful Soul to Solitude retires Where the White Hand Of Moses on the BoughPuts out and Jesus from the Ground suspiresV Iram indeed is gone with all his Rose And Jamshyd's Sev'n ring'd Cup where no one knows; But still a Ruby kindles in the Vine And many a Garden by the Water blowsVI And David's lips are lockt; but in divine High piping Pehlevi with Wine Wine Wine Red Wine the Nightingale cries to the Rose That sallow cheek of hers t' incarnadine VII Come fill the Cup and in the fire of SpringYour Winter garment of Repentance fling The Bird of Time bas but a little way To flutter and the Bird is on the WingVIII Whether at Naishapur or Babylon Whether the Cup with sweet or bitter runThe Wine of Life keeps oozing drop by drop The Leaves of Life keep falling one by one IX Each Morn a thousand Roses brings you say;Yes but where leaves the Rose of Yesterday And this first Summer month that brings the Rose Shall take Jamshyd and Kaikobad awayX Well let it take them What have we to do With Kaikobad the Great or Kaikhosru Let Zal and Rustum bluster as they willOr Hatim call to Supper heed not you XI With me along the strip of Herbage strownThat just divides the desert from the sown Where name of Slave and Sultan is forgot And Peace to Mahmud on his golden Throne XII A Book of Verses underneath the Bough A Jug of Wine a Loaf of Bread and ThouBeside me singing in the Wilderness Oh Wilderness were Paradise enow XIII Some for the Glories of This World; and someSigh for the Prophet's Paradise to come; Ah take the Cash and let the Credit goNor heed the rumble of a distant DrumXIV Look to the blowing Rose about us Lo Laughing she says into the world I blow At once the silken tassel of my Purse Tear and its Treasure on the Garden throw XV And those who husbanded the Golden grainAnd those who flung it to the winds like Rain Alike to no such aureate Earth are turn'dAs buried once Men want dug up again XVI 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 XVII Think in this batter'd Caravanserai Whose Portals are alternate Night and Day How Sultan after Sultan with his Pomp Abode his destined Hour and went his wayXVIII They say the Lion and the Lizard keep The Courts where Jamshyd gloried and drank deep And Bahram that great Hunter the Wild AssStamps o'er his Head but cannot break his Sleep XIX I sometimes think that never blows so redThe Rose as where some buried Caesar bled; That every Hyacinth the Garden wears Dropt in her Lap from some once lovely Head XX And this reviving Herb whose tender Green Fledges the River Lip on which we lean Ah lean upon it lightly for who knows From what once lovely Lip it springs unseen XXI Ah my Belov'ed fill the Cup that clearsTo day Past Regrets and Future Fears To morrow Why To morrow I may be Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n Thousand YearsXXII For some we loved the loveliest and the best That from his Vintage rolling Time hath prestHave drunk their Cup a Round or two before And one by one crept silently to restXXIII And we that now make merry in the Room They left and Summer dresses in new bloom Ourselves must we beneath the Couch of EarthDescend ourselves to make a Couch for whom XXIV Ah make the most of what we yet may spendBefore we too into the Dust descend; Dust into Dust and under Dust to lie Sans Wine sans Song sans Singer and sans EndXXV Alike for those who for To day prepare And those that after some To morrow stare A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness criesFools your Reward is neither Here nor There XXVI Why all the Saints and Sages who discuss'd Of the Two Worlds so wisely they are thrust Like foolish Prophets forth; their Words to Scorn Are scatter'd and their Mouths are stopt with DustXXVII Myself when young did eagerly freuent Doctor and Saint and heard great argumentAbout it and about but ever Came out by the same door where in I wentXXVIII With them the seed of Wisdom did I sow And with mine own hand wrought to make it grow; And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd I came like Water and like Wind I go XXIX Into this Universe and Why not knowing Nor Whence like Water willy nilly flowing; And out of it as Wind along the Waste I know not Whither willy nilly blowingXXX What without asking hither hurried Whence And without asking Whither hurried henceOh many a Cup of this forbidden Wine Must drown the memory of that insolence XXXI Up from Earth's Centre through the Seventh Gate rose and on the Throne of Saturn sate; And many a Knot unravel'd by the Road; But not the Master knot of Human FateXXXII There was the Door to which I found no Key;There was the Veil through which I might not see Some little talk awhile of Me and Thee There was and then no of Thee and MeXXXIII Earth could not answer; nor the Seas that mourn In flowing Purple of their Lord forlorn;Nor rolling Heaven with all his Signs reveal'dAnd hidden by the sleeve of Night and Morn XXXIV Then of the Thee in Me works behind The Veil I lifted up my hands to find A Lamp amid the Darkness; and I heard As from Without The Me Within Thee Blind XXXV Then to the lip of this poor earthen UrnI lean'd the Secret of my Life to learnAnd Lip to Lip it murmur'd While you live Drink for once dead you never shall returnXXXVI I think the Vessel that with fugitive Articulation answer'd once did live And drink; and Ah the passive Lip I kiss'dHow many Kisses might it take and give XXXVII For I remember stopping by the way To watch a Potter thumping his wet Clay And with its all obliterated Tongue It murmur'd Gently Brother gently prayXXXVIII And has not such a Story from of Old Down Man's successive generations roll'dOf such a clod of saturated Earth Cast by the Maker into Human mould XXXIX And not a drop that from our Cups we throwFor Earth to drink of but may steal below To uench the fire of Anguish in some Eye There hidden far beneath and long agoXL As then the Tulip for her morning sup Of Heav'nly Vintage from the soil looks up Do you devoutly do the like till Heav'n To Earth invert you like an empty CupXLI Perplext no with Human or Divine To morrow's tangle to the winds resign And lose your fingers in the tresses of The Cypress slender Minister of WineXLII And if the Wine you drink the Lip you pressEnd in what All begins and ends in Yes;Think then you are To day what Yesterday You were To morrow You shall not be less XLIII So when that Angel of the darker Drink At last shall find you by the river brinkAnd offering his Cup invite your Soul Forth to your Lips to uaff you shall not shrinkXLIV Why if the Soul can fling the Dust asideAnd naked on the Air of Heaven ride Were't not a Shame were't not a Shame for him In this clay carcase crippled to abideXLV 'Tis but a Tent where takes his one day's rest A Sultan to the realm of Death addrest; The Sultan rises and the dark Ferrash Strikes and prepares it for another GuestXLVI And fear not lest Existence closing yourAccount and mine should know the like no ; The Eternal Saki from that Bowl has pour'dMillions of Bubbles like us and will pourXLVII When You and I behind the Veil are pastOh but the long long while the World shall last Which of our Coming and Departure heeds As the Sea's self should heed a pebble castXLVIII A Moment's Halt a momentary taste Of Being from the Well amid the Waste And Lo the phantom Caravan has reach'd The Nothing it set out from Oh make hasteXLIX Would you that spangle of Existence spendAbout the Secret uick about it FriendA Hair perhaps divides the False and True And upon what prithee may life depend L A Hair perhaps divides the False and True;Yes; and a single Alif were the clue Could you but find it to the Treasure house And peradventure to The Master too;LI Whose secret Presence through Creation's veins Running uicksilver like eludes your pains; Taking all shapes from Mah to Mahi; and They change and perish all but He remains;LII A moment guess'd then back behind the Fold Immerst of Darkness round the Drama roll'd Which for the Pastime of Eternity He doth Himself contrive enact beholdLIII But if in vain down on the stubborn floor Of Earth and up to Heav'n's unopening DoorYou gaze To day while You are You how then To morrow You when shall be You no LIV Waste not your Hour nor in the vain pursuitOf This and That endeavour and dispute; Better be jocund with the fruitful GrapeThan sadden after none or bitter FruitLV You know my Friends with what a brave Carouse I made a Second Marriage in my house; Divorced old barren Reason from my Bed And took the Daughter of the Vine to Spouse LVI For Is and Is not though with Rule and Line And Up and Down by Logic I define Of all that one should care to fathom Was never deep in anything but WineLVII Ah but my Computations People say Reduced the Year to better reckoning Nay 'Twas only striking from the Calendar Unborn To morrow and dead YesterdayLVIII And lately by the Tavern Door agape Came shining through the Dusk an Angel Shape Bearing a Vessel on his Shoulder; and He bid me taste of it; and 'twas the GrapeLIX The Grape that can with Logic absolute The Two and Seventy jarring Sects confuteThe sovereign Alchemist that in a trice Life's leaden metal into Gold transmute LX The mighty Mahmud Allah breathing Lord That all the misbelieving and black HordeOf Fears and Sorrows that infest the Soul Scatters before him with his whirlwind SwordLXI Why be this Juice the growth of God who dare Blaspheme the twisted tendril as a Snare A Blessing we should use it should we not And if a Curse why then Who set it thereLXII I must abjure the Balm of Life I must Scared by some After reckoning ta'en on trustOr lured with Hope of some Diviner DrinkTo fill the Cup when crumbled into DustLXIII Oh threats of Hell and Hopes of ParadiseOne thing at least is certain This Life flies; One thing is certain and the rest is Lies; The Flower that once has blown for ever diesLXIV Strange is it not that of the myriads whoBefore us pass'd the door of Darkness through Not one returns to tell us of the Road Which to discover we must travel tooLXV The Revelations of Devout and Learn'd Who rose before us and as Prophets burn'd Are all but Stories which awoke from SleepThey told their comrades and to Sleep return'dLXVI I sent my Soul through the Invisible Some letter of that After life to spellAnd by and by my Soul return'd to me And answer'd I Myself am Heav'n and Hell LXVII Heav'n but the Vision of fulfill'd Desire And Hell the Shadow from a Soul on fireCast on the Darkness into which Ourselves So late emerged from shall so soon expire LXVIII We are no other than a moving row Of Magic Shadow shapes that come and go Round with the Sun illumined Lantern heldIn Midnight by the Master of the Show;LXIX But helpless Pieces of the Game He plays Upon this Cheuer board of Nights and Days;Hither and thither moves and checks and slays And one by one back in the Closet lays LXXThe Ball no uestion makes of Ayes and NoesBut Here or There as strikes the Player goes; And He that toss'd you down into the FieldHe knows about it all He knows HE knows LXXI The Moving Finger writes; and having writMoves on nor all your Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of itLXXII And that inverted Bowl they call the SkyWhereunder crawling coop'd we live and die Lift not your hands to It for help for ItAs impotently moves as you or ILXXIII With Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man knead And there of the Last Harvest sow'd the Seed And the first Morning of Creation wrote What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall readLXXIV Yesterday This Day's Madness did prepare;To morrow's Silence Triumph or DespairDrink for you know not whence you came nor why Drink for you know not why you go nor whereLXXV I tell you this When started from the Goal Over the flaming shoulders of the Foal Of Heav'n Parwin and Mushtari they flungIn my predestined Plot of Dust and SoulLXXVI The Vine had struck a fibre which about If clings my being let the Dervish flout; Of my Base metal may be filed a Key That shall unlock the Door he howls withoutLXXVII And this I know whether the one True LightKindle to Love or Wrath consume me uiteOne Flash of It within the Tavern caught Better than in the Temple lost outright LXXVIII What out of senseless Nothing to provokeA conscious Something to resent the yokeOf unpermitted Pleasure under pain Of Everlasting Penalties if brokeLXXIX What from his helpless Creature be repaidPure Gold for what he lent him dross allay'd Sue for a Debt he never did contract And cannot answer Oh the sorry tradeLXXX Oh Thou who didst with pitfall and with gin Beset the Road I was to wander in Thou wilt not with Predestined Evil roundEnmesh and then impute my Fall to SinLXXXI Oh Thou who Man of baser Earth didst makeAnd ev'n with Paradise devise the SnakeFor all the Sin wherewith the Face of Man Is blacken'd Man's forgiveness give and take LXXXII As under cover of departing Day Slunk hunger stricken Ramazan away Once within the Potter's house alone I stood surrounded by the Shapes of ClayLXXXIII Shapes of all Sorts and Sizes great and small That stood along the floor and by the wall; And some louacious Vessels were; and someListen'd perhaps but never talk'd at allLXXXIV Said one among them Surely not in vain My substance of the common Earth was ta'enAnd to this Figure moulded to be broke Or trampled back to shapeless Earth againLXXXV Then said a Second Ne'er a peevish Boy Would break the Bowl from which he drank in joy And He that with his hand the Vessel made Will surely not in after Wrath destroy LXXXVI After a momentary silence spake Some Vessel of a ungainly Make; They sneer at me for leaning all awryWhat did the Hand then of the Potter shakeLXXXVII Whereat some one of the louacious Lot I think a Sufi pipkin waxing hot All this of Pot and Potter Tell me then Who is the Potter pray and who the PotLXXXVIII Why said another Some there are who tell Of one who threatens he will toss to HellThe luckless Pots he marr'd in making Pish He's a Good Fellow and 'twill all be well LXXXIX Well Murmur'd one Let whoso make or buy My Clay with long Oblivion is gone dry But fill me with the old familiar juiceMethinks I might recover by and byXC So while the Vessels one by one were speaking The little Moon look'd in that all were seekingAnd then they jogg'd each other Brother Brother Now for the Porter's shoulder knot a creaking XCI Ah with the Grape my fading Life provide And wash the Body whence the Life has diedAnd lay me shrouded in the living Leaf By some not unfreuented Garden side XCII That ev'n my buried Ashes such a snare Of Vintage shall fling up into the Air As not a True believer passing by But shall be overtaken unawareXCIII Indeed the Idols I have loved so long Have done my credit in this World much wrong Have drown'd my Glory in a shallow Cup And sold my Reputation for a Song XCIV Indeed indeed Repentance of before I swore but was I sober when I swore And then and then came Spring and Rose in handMy thread bare Penitence apieces toreXCV And much as Wine has play'd the InfidelAnd robb'd me of my Robe of Honour WellI wonder often what the Vintners buy One half so precious as the stuff they sell XCVI Yet Ah 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 XCVII Would but the Desert of the Fountain yieldOne glimpse if dimly yet indeed reveal'd To which the fainting Traveller might springAs springs the trampled herbage of the fieldتاریخ نخستین خوانش این نسخه ماد فوریه سال 2004 میلادیدر دفترم، دوازده نسخه از این کتاب مستطاب، هنوز هم هست؛ برای همین است که مشخصات نسخه های چاپ شده را، در این ریویو نمیبینید، بسیار زیاد است، و نوشتن تکه ای از پاره های نشر نیز، دردی را از پژوهشگران، درمان نخواهد کرد، و نمیکند؛ تاریخ نخستین خوانش این فراموشکار از خیام دلآویز نیز، به دوره ی دبیرستان فیوضات تبریز برمیگردد، سالهای 1342 هجری شمسی به بعد، چند سال پیشتر، خواستم نسخه ی روانشاد ادوارد فیتزجرالد را، با نسخه های کهن موجود در اینترنت، برابر نهم، و و برای خود پژوهشی کنم، شاید که گرهی گشوده شود؛ بیشتر نسخه ها را گرد آوردم، و صفحاتی چند از نسخه ی چاپ شده ی فیتز جرالد را نیز یافتم، سپس به نسخه های هدایت، و دیگران پرداختم، هنوز هم گاه، دستی بالا میزنم، و چند خطی مینویسمجامی­ ست که عقل آفرین می­زندش، صد بوسه­ ی مهر، بر جبین می­زندشاین کوزه­ گر دهر چنین جام لطیف، می­سازد، و باز، برزمین می­زندشای کاش که جای آرمیدن بودی، یا این ره دور را رسیدن بودییا از پس صد هزار سال از دل خاک، چون سبزه امید بردمیدن بودیاین کوزه چو من عاشق زاری بوده ست، در بند سر زلف نگاری بوده ستاین دسته که بر گردن او می بینی، دستی است که بر گردن یاری بودستهرچند که رنگ و روی زیباست مرا، چون لاله رخ و چو سرو بالاست مرامعلوم نشد که در طربخانه ی خاک، نقاش ازل بهر چه آراست مراخیاما شربیانی

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رباعیات خیامResting things in this book readers are very amazed by the contents of the book. رباعيات خيام The Rubáiyát Omar KhayyámThe Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám is the title that Edward FitzGerald gave to his translation of a selection of poems originally written in Persian and numbering about a thousand attributed to Omar Khayyám 1048–1131 a Persian poet mathematician and astronomer A Ruba'i is a two line stanza with two parts or hemstitch per line hence the word rubáiyát derived from the Arabic language root for Four meaning uatrains IWake For the Sun who scatter'd into flightThe Stars before him from the Field of NightDrives Night along with them from Heav'n and strikesThe Sultan's Turret with a Shaft of LightIIBefore the phantom of False morning diedMethought a Voice within the Tavern criedWhen all the Temple is prepared withinWhy nods the drowsy Worshipper outsideIIIAnd as the Cock crew those who stood beforeThe Tavern shouted Open then the DoorYou know how little while we have to stayAnd once departed may return no IVNow the New Year reviving old DesiresThe thoughtful Soul to Solitude retiresWhere the White Hand Of Moses on the BoughPuts out and Jesus from the Ground suspiresVIram indeed is gone with all his RoseAnd Jamshyd's Sev'n ring'd Cup where no one knows;But still a Ruby kindles in the VineAnd many a Garden by the Water blowsVIAnd David's lips are lockt; but in divineHigh piping Pehlevi with Wine Wine WineRed Wine the Nightingale cries to the RoseThat sallow cheek of hers t' incarnadineVIICome fill the Cup and in the fire of SpringYour Winter garment of Repentance flingThe Bird of Time bas but a little wayTo flutter and the Bird is on the WingVIIIWhether at Naishapur or BabylonWhether the Cup with sweet or bitter runThe Wine of Life keeps oozing drop by dropThe Leaves of Life keep falling one by oneIXEach Morn a thousand Roses brings you say;Yes but where leaves the Rose of YesterdayAnd this first Summer month that brings the RoseShall take Jamshyd and Kaikobad awayXWell let it take them What have we to doWith Kaikobad the Great or KaikhosruLet Zal and Rustum bluster as they willOr Hatim call to Supper heed not youXIWith me along the strip of Herbage strownThat just divides the desert from the sownWhere name of Slave and Sultan is forgot And Peace to Mahmud on his golden ThroneXIIA Book of Verses underneath the BoughA Jug of Wine a Loaf of Bread and ThouBeside me singing in the Wilderness Oh Wilderness were Paradise enowXIIISome for the Glories of This World; and someSigh for the Prophet's Paradise to come;Ah take the Cash and let the Credit goNor heed the rumble of a distant DrumXIVLook to the blowing Rose about us LoLaughing she says into the world I blowAt once the silken tassel of my PurseTear and its Treasure on the Garden throwXVAnd those who husbanded the Golden grainAnd those who flung it to the winds like RainAlike to no such aureate Earth are turn'dAs buried once Men want dug up againXVIThe Worldly Hope men set their Hearts uponTurns Ashes or it prospers; and anonLike Snow upon the Desert's dusty FaceLighting a little hour or two is goneXVIIThink in this batter'd CaravanseraiWhose Portals are alternate Night and DayHow Sultan after Sultan with his PompAbode his destined Hour and went his wayXVIIIThey say the Lion and the Lizard keepThe Courts where Jamshyd gloried and drank deepAnd Bahram that great Hunter the Wild AssStamps o'er his Head but cannot break his SleepXIXI sometimes think that never blows so redThe Rose as where some buried Caesar bled;That every Hyacinth the Garden wearsDropt in her Lap from some once lovely HeadXXAnd this reviving Herb whose tender GreenFledges the River Lip on which we lean Ah lean upon it lightly for who knowsFrom what once lovely Lip it springs unseenXXIAh my Belov'ed fill the Cup that clearsTo day Past Regrets and Future FearsTo morrow Why To morrow I may beMyself with Yesterday's Sev'n Thousand YearsXXIIFor some we loved the loveliest and the bestThat from his Vintage rolling Time hath prestHave drunk their Cup a Round or two beforeAnd one by one crept silently to restXXIIIAnd we that now make merry in the RoomThey left and Summer dresses in new bloomOurselves must we beneath the Couch of EarthDescend ourselves to make a Couch for whomXXIVAh make the most of what we yet may spendBefore we too into the Dust descend;Dust into Dust and under Dust to lieSans Wine sans Song sans Singer and sans EndXXVAlike for those who for To day prepareAnd those that after some To morrow stareA Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness criesFools your Reward is neither Here nor ThereXXVIWhy all the Saints and Sages who discuss'dOf the Two Worlds so wisely they are thrustLike foolish Prophets forth; their Words to ScornAre scatter'd and their Mouths are stopt with DustXXVIIMyself when young did eagerly freuentDoctor and Saint and heard great argumentAbout it and about but everCame out by the same door where in I wentXXVIIIWith them the seed of Wisdom did I sowAnd with mine own hand wrought to make it grow;And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd I came like Water and like Wind I goXXIXInto this Universe and Why not knowingNor Whence like Water willy nilly flowing;And out of it as Wind along the WasteI know not Whither willy nilly blowingXXXWhat without asking hither hurried WhenceAnd without asking Whither hurried henceOh many a Cup of this forbidden WineMust drown the memory of that insolenceXXXIUp from Earth's Centre through the Seventh Gaterose and on the Throne of Saturn sate;And many a Knot unravel'd by the Road;But not the Master knot of Human FateXXXIIThere was the Door to which I found no Key;There was the Veil through which I might not seeSome little talk awhile of Me and TheeThere was and then no of Thee and MeXXXIIIEarth could not answer; nor the Seas that mournIn flowing Purple of their Lord forlorn;Nor rolling Heaven with all his Signs reveal'dAnd hidden by the sleeve of Night and MornXXXIVThen of the Thee in Me works behindThe Veil I lifted up my hands to findA Lamp amid the Darkness; and I heardAs from Without The Me Within Thee BlindXXXVThen to the lip of this poor earthen UrnI lean'd the Secret of my Life to learnAnd Lip to Lip it murmur'd While you liveDrink for once dead you never shall returnXXXVII think the Vessel that with fugitiveArticulation answer'd once did liveAnd drink; and Ah the passive Lip I kiss'dHow many Kisses might it take and giveXXXVIIFor I remember stopping by the wayTo watch a Potter thumping his wet ClayAnd with its all obliterated TongueIt murmur'd Gently Brother gently prayXXXVIIIAnd has not such a Story from of OldDown Man's successive generations roll'dOf such a clod of saturated EarthCast by the Maker into Human mouldXXXIXAnd not a drop that from our Cups we throwFor Earth to drink of but may steal belowTo uench the fire of Anguish in some EyeThere hidden far beneath and long agoXLAs then the Tulip for her morning supOf Heav'nly Vintage from the soil looks upDo you devoutly do the like till Heav'nTo Earth invert you like an empty CupXLIPerplext no with Human or DivineTo morrow's tangle to the winds resignAnd lose your fingers in the tresses ofThe Cypress slender Minister of WineXLIIAnd if the Wine you drink the Lip you pressEnd in what All begins and ends in Yes;Think then you are To day what YesterdayYou were To morrow You shall not be lessXLIIISo when that Angel of the darker DrinkAt last shall find you by the river brinkAnd offering his Cup invite your SoulForth to your Lips to uaff you shall not shrinkXLIVWhy if the Soul can fling the Dust asideAnd naked on the Air of Heaven rideWere't not a Shame were't not a Shame for himIn this clay carcase crippled to abideXLV'Tis but a Tent where takes his one day's restA Sultan to the realm of Death addrest;The Sultan rises and the dark FerrashStrikes and prepares it for another GuestXLVIAnd fear not lest Existence closing yourAccount and mine should know the like no ;The Eternal Saki from that Bowl has pour'dMillions of Bubbles like us and will pourXLVIIWhen You and I behind the Veil are pastOh but the long long while the World shall lastWhich of our Coming and Departure heedsAs the Sea's self should heed a pebble castXLVIIIA Moment's Halt a momentary tasteOf Being from the Well amid the Waste And Lo the phantom Caravan has reach'dThe Nothing it set out from Oh make hasteXLIXWould you that spangle of Existence spendAbout the Secret uick about it FriendA Hair perhaps divides the False and True And upon what prithee may life dependLA Hair perhaps divides the False and True;Yes; and a single Alif were the clue Could you but find it to the Treasure houseAnd peradventure to The Master too;LIWhose secret Presence through Creation's veinsRunning uicksilver like eludes your pains;Taking all shapes from Mah to Mahi; andThey change and perish all but He remains;LIIA moment guess'd then back behind the FoldImmerst of Darkness round the Drama roll'dWhich for the Pastime of EternityHe doth Himself contrive enact beholdLIIIBut if in vain down on the stubborn floorOf Earth and up to Heav'n's unopening DoorYou gaze To day while You are You how thenTo morrow You when shall be You no LIVWaste not your Hour nor in the vain pursuitOf This and That endeavour and dispute;Better be jocund with the fruitful GrapeThan sadden after none or bitter FruitLVYou know my Friends with what a brave CarouseI made a Second Marriage in my house;Divorced old barren Reason from my BedAnd took the Daughter of the Vine to SpouseLVIFor Is and Is not though with Rule and LineAnd Up and Down by Logic I defineOf all that one should care to fathomWas never deep in anything but WineLVIIAh but my Computations People sayReduced the Year to better reckoning Nay'Twas only striking from the CalendarUnborn To morrow and dead YesterdayLVIIIAnd lately by the Tavern Door agapeCame shining through the Dusk an Angel ShapeBearing a Vessel on his Shoulder; andHe bid me taste of it; and 'twas the GrapeLIXThe Grape that can with Logic absoluteThe Two and Seventy jarring Sects confuteThe sovereign Alchemist that in a triceLife's leaden metal into Gold transmuteLXThe mighty Mahmud Allah breathing LordThat all the misbelieving and black HordeOf Fears and Sorrows that infest the SoulScatters before him with his whirlwind SwordLXIWhy be this Juice the growth of God who dareBlaspheme the twisted tendril as a SnareA Blessing we should use it should we notAnd if a Curse why then Who set it thereLXIII must abjure the Balm of Life I mustScared by some After reckoning ta'en on trustOr lured with Hope of some Diviner DrinkTo fill the Cup when crumbled into DustLXIIIOh threats of Hell and Hopes of ParadiseOne thing at least is certain This Life flies;One thing is certain and the rest is Lies;The Flower that once has blown for ever diesLXIVStrange is it not that of the myriads whoBefore us pass'd the door of Darkness throughNot one returns to tell us of the RoadWhich to discover we must travel tooLXVThe Revelations of Devout and Learn'dWho rose before us and as Prophets burn'dAre all but Stories which awoke from SleepThey told their comrades and to Sleep return'dLXVII sent my Soul through the InvisibleSome letter of that After life to spellAnd by and by my Soul return'd to meAnd answer'd I Myself am Heav'n and HellLXVIIHeav'n but the Vision of fulfill'd DesireAnd Hell the Shadow from a Soul on fireCast on the Darkness into which OurselvesSo late emerged from shall so soon expireLXVIIIWe are no other than a moving rowOf Magic Shadow shapes that come and goRound with the Sun illumined Lantern heldIn Midnight by the Master of the Show;LXIXBut helpless Pieces of the Game He playsUpon this Cheuer board of Nights and Days;Hither and thither moves and checks and slaysAnd one by one back in the Closet laysLXXThe Ball no uestion makes of Ayes and NoesBut Here or There as strikes the Player goes;And He that toss'd you down into the FieldHe knows about it all He knows HE knowsLXXIThe Moving Finger writes; and having writMoves on nor all your Piety nor WitShall lure it back to cancel half a LineNor all your Tears wash out a Word of itLXXIIAnd that inverted Bowl they call the SkyWhereunder crawling coop'd we live and dieLift not your hands to It for help for ItAs impotently moves as you or ILXXIIIWith Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man kneadAnd there of the Last Harvest sow'd the SeedAnd the first Morning of Creation wroteWhat the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall readLXXIVYesterday This Day's Madness did prepare;To morrow's Silence Triumph or DespairDrink for you know not whence you came nor whyDrink for you know not why you go nor whereLXXVI tell you this When started from the GoalOver the flaming shoulders of the FoalOf Heav'n Parwin and Mushtari they flungIn my predestined Plot of Dust and Soulتاریخ نخستین خوانش این نسخه ماد فوریه سال 2004 میلادیعنوان رباعيات خيام؛ شاعر عمر خیام؛ تصحیح محمدعلی فروغی؛ قاسم غنی؛در دفترم، دوازده نسخه از این کتاب مستطاب، هنوز هم هست؛ برای همین است که مشخصات نسخه های چاپ شده را، در این ریویو نمیبینید، بسیار زیاد است، و نوشتن تکه ای از پاره های نشر نیز، دردی را از پژوهشگران، درمان نخواهد کرد، و نمیکند؛ تاریخ نخستین خوانش این فراموشکار از خیام دلآویز نیز، به دوره ی دبیرستان فیوضات تبریز برمیگردد، سالهای 1342 هجری شمسی به بعد، چند سال پیشتر، خواستم نسخه ی روانشاد ادوارد فیتزجرالد را، با نسخه های کهن موجود در اینترنت، برابر نهم، و و برای خود پژوهشی کنم، شاید که گرهی گشوده شود؛ بیشتر نسخه ها را گرد آوردم، و صفحاتی چند از نسخه ی چاپ شده ی فیتز جرالد را نیز یافتم، سپس به نسخه های هدایت، و دیگران پرداختم، هنوز هم گاه، دستی بالا میزنم، و چند خطی مینویسمجامی­ ست که عقل آفرین می­زندش، صد بوسه­ ی مهر، بر جبین می­زندشاین کوزه­ گر دهر چنین جام لطیف، می­سازد، و باز، برزمین می­زندشای کاش که جای آرمیدن بودی، یا این ره دور را رسیدن بودییا از پس صد هزار سال از دل خاک، چون سبزه امید بردمیدن بودیاین کوزه چو من عاشق زاری بوده ست، در بند سر زلف نگاری بوده ستاین دسته که بر گردن او می بینی، دستی است که بر گردن یاری بودستهرچند که رنگ و روی زیباست مرا، چون لاله رخ و چو سرو بالاست مرامعلوم نشد که در طربخانه ی خاک، نقاش ازل بهر چه آراست مراخیامتاریخ بهنگام رسانی 05081399هجری خورشیدی؛ ا شربیانی