by Name
by Date
by Title
by First Line
by Last Line
Poet
Poem
Short poem
Keyword
Concordance

Edward FitzGerald (1809-1883)

Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám


I
              1AWAKE! for Morning in the Bowl of Night
              2Has flung the Stone that puts the Stars to Flight:
              3     And Lo! the Hunter of the East has caught
              4The Sultan's Turret in a Noose of Light.

II
              5Dreaming when Dawn's Left Hand was in the Sky
              6I heard a Voice within the Tavern cry,
              7     "Awake, my Little ones, and fill the Cup
              8Before Life's Liquor in its Cup be dry."

III
              9And, as the Cock crew, those who stood before
            10The Tavern shouted--"Open then the Door!
            11     You know how little while we have to stay,
            12And, once departed, may return no more."

IV
            13Now the New Year reviving old Desires,
            14The thoughtful Soul to Solitude retires,
            15     Where the WHITE HAND OF MOSES on the Bough
            16Puts out, and Jesus from the Ground suspires.

V
            17Irám indeed is gone with all its Rose,
            18And Jamshýd's Sev'n-ring'd Cup where no one knows;
            19     But still the Vine her ancient Ruby yields,
            20And still a Garden by the Water blows.

VI
            21And David's Lips are lock't; but in divine
            22High piping Pehleví, with "Wine! Wine! Wine!
            23Red Wine!"--the Nightingale cries to the Rose
            24That yellow Cheek of hers to' incarnadine.

VII
            25Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring
            26The Winter Garment of Repentance fling:
            27     The Bird of Time has but a little way
            28To fly--and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing.

VIII
            29And look--a thousand Blossoms with the Day
            30Woke--and a thousand scatter'd into Clay:
            31     And this first Summer Month that brings the Rose
            32Shall take Jamsh{'y}d and Kaikobád away.

IX
            33But come with old Khayyám, and leave the Lot
            34Of Kaikobád and Kaikhosrú forgot:
            35Let Rustum lay about him as he will,
            36Or Hátim Tai cry Supper--heed them not.

X
            37With me along some Strip of Herbage strown
            38That just divides the desert from the sown,
            39     Where name of Slave and Sultán scarce is known,
            40And pity Sultán Mahmúd on his Throne.

XI
            41Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,
            42A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse--and Thou
            43     Beside me singing in the Wilderness--
            44And Wilderness is Paradise enow.

XII
            45"How sweet is mortal Sovranty!"--think some:
            46Others--"How blest the Paradise to come!"
            47     Ah, take the Cash in hand and waive the Rest;
            48Oh, the brave Music of a distant Drum!

XIII
            49Look to the Rose that blows about us--"Lo,
            50Laughing," she says, "into the World I blow:
            51     At once the silken Tassel of my Purse
            52Tear, and its Treasure on the Garden throw."

XIV
            53The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon
            54Turns Ashes--or it prospers; and anon,
            55     Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty Face
            56Lighting a little Hour or two--is gone.

XV
            57And those who husbanded the Golden Grain,
            58And those who flung it to the Winds like Rain,
            59     Alike to no such aureate Earth are turn'd
            60As, buried once, Men want dug up again.

XVI
            61Think, in this batter'd Caravanserai
            62Whose Doorways are alternate Night and Day,
            63     How Sultán after Sultán with his Pomp
            64Abode his Hour or two, and went his way.

XVII
            65They say the Lion and the Lizard keep
            66The Courts where Jamsh{'y}d gloried and drank deep:
            67     And Bahrám, that great Hunter--the Wild Ass
            68Stamps o'er his Head, and he lies fast asleep.

XVIII
            69I sometimes think that never blows so red
            70The Rose as where some buried Cæsar bled;
            71     That every Hyacinth the Garden wears
            72Dropt in its Lap from some once lovely Head.

XIX
            73And this delightful Herb whose tender Green
            74Fledges the River's Lip on which we lean--
            75     Ah, lean upon it lightly! for who knows
            76From what once lovely Lip it springs unseen!

XX
            77Ah, my Beloved, fill the Cup that clears
            78TO-DAY of past Regrets and future Fears--
            79     To-morrow?--Why, To-morrow I may be
            80Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n Thousand Years.

XXI
            81Lo! some we lov'd, the loveliest and best
            82That Time and Fate of all their Vintage prest,
            83     Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before,
            84And one by one crept silently to Rest.

XXII
            85And we, that now make merry in the Room
            86They left, and Summer dresses in new Bloom,
            87     Ourselves must we beneath the Couch of Earth
            88Descend, ourselves to make a Couch--for whom?

XXIII
            89Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,
            90Before we too into the Dust descend;
            91     Dust into Dust, and under Dust, to lie,
            92Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and--sans End!

XXIV
            93Alike for those who for TO-DAY prepare,
            94And those that after a TO-MORROW stare,
            95     A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries
            96"Fools! your Reward is neither Here nor There!"

XXV
            97Why, all the Saints and Sages who discuss'd
            98Of the Two Worlds so learnedly are thrust
            99     Like foolish Prophets forth; their Words to Scorn
          100Are scatter'd, and their Mouths are stopt with Dust.

XXVI
          101Oh, come with old Khayyám, and leave the Wise
          102To talk; one thing is certain, that Life flies;
          103     One thing is certain, and the Rest is Lies;
          104The Flower that once has blown for ever dies.

XXVII
          105Myself when young did eagerly frequent
          106Doctor and Saint, and heard great Argument
          107     About it and about: but evermore
          108Came out by the same Door as in I went.

XXVIII
          109With them the Seed of Wisdom did I sow,
          110And with my own hand labour'd it to grow:
          111     And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd--
          112"I came like Water, and like Wind I go."

XXIX
          113Into this Universe, and why not knowing,
          114Nor whence like Water willy-nilly flowing:
          115And out of it, as Wind along the Waste,
          116I know not whither willy-nilly blowing.

XXX
          117What, without asking, hither hurried whence?
          118And, without asking, whither hurried hence!
          119     Another and another Cup to drown
          120The Memory of this Impertinence!

XXXI
          121Up from Earth's Centre through the Seventh Gate
          122I rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate,
          123     And many Knots unravel'd by the Road;
          124But not the Knot of Human Death and Fate.

XXXII
          125There was a Door to which I found no Key:
          126There was a Veil past which I could not see:
          127     Some little Talk awhile of ME and THEE
          128There seem'd--and then no more of THEE and ME.

XXXIII
          129Then to the rolling Heav'n itself I cried,
          130Asking, "What Lamp had Destiny to guide
          131     Her little Children stumbling in the Dark?"
          132And--"A blind Understanding!" Heav'n replied.

XXXIV
          133Then to this earthen Bowl did I adjourn
          134My Lip the secret Well of Life to learn:
          135     And Lip to Lip it murmur'd--"While you live
          136Drink!--for once dead you never shall return."

XXXV
          137I think the Vessel, that with fugitive
          138Articulation answer'd, once did live,
          139     And merry-make; and the cold Lip I kiss'd
          140How many Kisses might it take--and give!

XXXVI
          141For in the Market-place, one Dusk of Day,
          142I watch'd the Potter thumping his wet Clay:
          143     And with its all obliterated Tongue
          144It murmur'd--"Gently, Brother, gently, pray!"

XXXVII
          145Ah, fill the Cup:--what boots it to repeat
          146How Time is slipping underneath our Feet:
          147     Unborn TO-MORROW, and dead YESTERDAY,
          148Why fret about them if TO-DAY be sweet!

XXXVIII
          149One Moment in Annihilation's Waste,
          150One Moment, of the Well of Life to taste--
          151     The Stars are setting and the Caravan
          152Starts for the Dawn of Nothing--Oh, make haste!

XXXIX
          153How long, how long, in infinite Pursuit
          154Of This and That endeavour and dispute?
          155     Better be merry with the fruitful Grape
          156Than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit.

XL
          157You know, my Friends, how long since in my House
          158For a new Marriage I did make Carouse:
          159     Divorc'd old barren Reason from my Bed,
          160And took the Daughter of the Vine to Spouse.

XLI
          161For "Is" and "IS-NOT" though with Rule and Line,
          162And "UP-AND-DOWN" without I could define,
          163     I yet in all I only cared to know,
          164Was never deep in anything but--Wine.

XLII
          165And lately, by the Tavern Door agape,
          166Came stealing through the Dusk an Angel Shape
          167     Bearing a Vessel on his Shoulder; and
          168He bid me taste of it; and 'twas--the Grape!

XLIII
          169The Grape that can with Logic absolute
          170The Two-and-Seventy jarring Sects confute:
          171     The subtle Alchemist that in a Trice
          172Life's leaden Metal into Gold transmute:

XLIV
          173The mighty Mahmúd, the victorious Lord,
          174That all the misbelieving and black Horde
          175     Of Fears and Sorrows that infest the Soul
          176Scatters and slays with his enchanted Sword.

XLV
          177But leave the Wise to wrangle, and with me
          178The Quarrel of the Universe let be:
          179     And, in some corner of the Hubbub coucht,
          180Make Game of that which makes as much of Thee.

XLVI
          181For in and out, above, about, below,
          182'Tis nothing but a Magic Shadow-show,
          183     Play'd in a Box whose Candle is the Sun,
          184Round which we Phantom Figures come and go.

XLVII
          185And if the Wine you drink, the Lip you press,
          186End in the Nothing all Things end in--Yes--
          187     Then fancy while Thou art, Thou art but what
          188Thou shalt be--Nothing--Thou shalt not be less.

XLVIII
          189While the Rose blows along the River Brink,
          190With old Khayyám the Ruby Vintage drink:
          191     And when the Angel with his darker Draught
          192Draws up to Thee--take that, and do not shrink.

XLIX
          193'Tis all a Chequer-board of Nights and Days
          194Where Destiny with Men for Pieces plays:
          195     Hither and thither moves, and mates, and slays,
          196And one by one back in the Closet lays.

L
          197The Ball no Question makes of Ayes and Noes,
          198But Right or Left as strikes the Player goes;
          199     And He that toss'd Thee down into the Field,
          200He knows about it all--HE knows--HE knows!

LI
          201The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
          202Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
          203     Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
          204Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.

LII
          205And that inverted Bowl we call The Sky,
          206Whereunder crawling coop't we live and die,
          207     Lift not thy hands to It for help--for It
          208Rolls impotently on as Thou or I.

LIII
          209With Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man's knead,
          210And then of the Last Harvest sow'd the Seed:
          211     Yea, the first Morning of Creation wrote
          212What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read.

LIV
          213I tell Thee this--When, starting from the Goal,
          214Over the shoulders of the flaming Foal
          215     Of Heav'n Parwín and Mushtara they flung,
          216In my predestin'd Plot of Dust and Soul

LV
          217The Vine had struck a Fibre; which about
          218If clings my Being--let the Súfi flout;
          219     Of my Base Metal may be fil'd a Key
          220That shall unlock the Door he howls without.

LVI
          221And this I know: whether the one True Light
          222Kindle to Love, or Wrath consume me quite,
          223     One Glimpse of It within the Tavern caught
          224Better than in the Temple lost outright.

LVII
          225Oh Thou, who didst with Pitfall and with Gin
          226Beset the Road I was to wander in,
          227     Thou wilt not with Predestination round
          228Enmesh me, and impute my Fall to Sin?

LVIII
          229Oh, Thou, who Man of baser Earth didst make,
          230And who with Eden didst devise the Snake;
          231     For all the Sin wherewith the Face of Man
          232Is blacken'd, Man's Forgiveness give--and take!

    *      *      *      *

KÚZA-NÁMA

LIX
          233Listen again. One Evening at the Close
          234Of Ramazán, ere the better Moon arose,
          235     In that old Potter's Shop I stood alone
          236With the clay Population round in Rows.

LX
          237And, strange to tell, among that Earthen Lot
          238Some could articulate, while others not:
          239     And suddenly one more impatient cried--
          240"Who is the Potter, pray, and who the Pot?"

LXI
          241Then said another--"Surely not in vain
          242My Substance from the common Earth was ta'en,
          243     That He who subtly wrought me into Shape
          244Should stamp me back to common Earth again."

LXII
          245Another said--"Why, ne'er a peevish Boy
          246Would break the Bowl from which he drank in Joy;
          247     Shall He that made the Vessel in pure Love
          248And Fancy, in an after Rage destroy!"

LXIII
          249None answer'd this; but after Silence spake
          250A Vessel of a more ungainly Make:
          251     "They sneer at me for leaning all awry;
          252What! did the Hand then of the Potter shake?"

LXIV
          253Said one--"Folks of a surly Tapster tell,
          254And daub his Visage with the Smoke of Hell;
          255     They talk of some strict Testing of us--Pish!
          256He's a Good Fellow, and 'twill all be well."

LXV
          257Then said another with a long-drawn Sigh,
          258"My Clay with long oblivion is gone dry:
          259     But, fill me with the old familiar Juice,
          260Methinks I might recover by-and-bye!"

LXVI
          261So while the Vessels one by one were speaking,
          262One spied the little Crescent all were seeking:
          263     And then they jogg'd each other, "Brother! Brother!
          264Hark to the Porter's Shoulder-knot a-creaking!"

LXVII
          265Ah, with the Grape my fading Life provide,
          266And wash my Body whence the Life has died,
          267     And in a Windingsheet of Vine-leaf wrapt,
          268So bury me by some sweet Garden-side.

LXVIII
          269That ev'n my buried Ashes such a Snare
          270Of Perfume shall fling up into the Air,
          271     As not a True Believer passing by
          272But shall be overtaken unaware.

LXIX
          273Indeed the Idols I have lov'd so long
          274Have done my Credit in Men's Eye much wrong:
          275     Have drown'd my Honour in a shallow Cup,
          276And sold my Reputation for a Song.

LXX
          277Indeed, indeed, Repentance oft before
          278I swore--but was I sober when I swore?
          279     And then and then came Spring, and Rose-in-hand
          280My thread-bare Penitence apieces tore.

LXXI
          281And much as Wine has play'd the Infidel,
          282And robb'd me of my Robe of Honour--well
          283     I often wonder what the Vintners buy
          284One half so precious as the Goods they sell.

LXXII
          285Alas, that Spring should vanish with the Rose!
          286That Youth's sweet-scented Manuscript should close!
          287     The Nightingale that in the Branches sang,
          288Ah, whence, and whither flown again, who knows!

LXXIII
          289Ah Love! could thou and I with Fate conspire
          290To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,
          291     Would not we shatter it to bits--and then
          292Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!

LXXIV
          293Ah, Moon of my Delight who know'st no wane,
          294The Moon of Heav'n is rising once again:
          295     How oft hereafter rising shall she look
          296Through this same Garden after me in vain!

LXXV
          297And when Thyself with shining Foot shall pass
          298Among the Guests Star-scatter'd on the Grass
          299     And in thy joyous Errand reach the Spot
          300Where I made one--turn down an empty Glass!

TAMÁM SHUD

Notes

1] Omar Khayyám, Persian astronomer, mathematician, philosopher and poet, lived at Naishápúr in Khorassán in the second half of the eleventh and the first quarter of the twelfth century A.D. The traditional Persian stanza he employed, the rubái, consisted of two verses of varied prosody divided into hemistichs, with the first, second and fourth hemistichs rhyming--and occasionally the third as well. FitzGerald's stanza, a pentameter quatrain with aaba rhyme, is similar in form to Omar's although less varied in its rhythm. In the Persian original each rubái is an independent composition, its thought condensed and polished to the form of epigram. Collections of rubáiyát were made, not by grouping together stanzas similar in subject matter, but by arranging the independent units in an alphabetic sequence. The result is, as FitzGerald said, "a strange farrago of grave and gay," with recurring motifs but without essential unity or progression of theme or mood. Studying some six hundred rubáiyát in the two Omar manuscripts available to him, FitzGerald saw that by selection and arrangement "a very pretty eclogue might be tesselated out of his scattered fragments." The controlling design was outlined by FitzGerald in a letter to his publisher: "[The poet] begins with dawn pretty sober and contemplative; then as he thinks and drinks, grows savage, blasphemous, etc., and then again sobers down into melancholy at nightfall." FitzGerald recognized that his plan altered somewhat the balance of moods in Omar, allowing "a less than equal proportion of the 'Drink and make merry,' which (genuine or not) recurs over-frequently in the original." Since Omar's own day there have been recurrent attempts to interpret in a mystical sense the poet's glorification of wine and the joys of the moment. FitzGerald viewed the rubáiyát more literally: "... his worldly pleasures are what they profess to be without any pretence at divine allegory: his wine is the veritable juice of the grape: his tavern, where it was to be had: his Saki, the flesh and blood that poured it out for him: all which, and where the roses were in bloom, was all he profess'd to want of this world or to expect of paradise." As translator, FitzGerald was concerned not with literal accuracy but with securing a forceful and lively equivalent: "Better a live sparrow than a stuffed eagle." As Persian scholar, he was a dedicated and careful amateur. When he encountered difficulties in interpreting Omar, he consulted his friend and unofficial tutor, E. B. Cowell who later became a distinguished Sanskrit scholar but who, in the 1850's, was rather a keen and gifted student of Oriental languages than an authoritative guide. The first edition of FitzGerald's Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám appeared anonymously in March 1859. The poem underwent extensive revision for successive editions in 1868 (with 110 quatrains), 1872 (101 quatrains), and 1879. FitzGerald's publisher, Bernard Quaritch, had named him as Omar's translator in a book catalogue in the autumn of 1868, but that mention went unnoticed and FitzGerald was not formally recognized as the author of the Rubáiyát until March 1876, in an article in the Contemporary Review. The text printed here is that of the first edition. Textual notes in quotation marks are FitzGerald's notes from that edition. The best recent edition of the 1859 version is A. J. Arberry's The Romance of the Rubáiyát, London, 1959.

Comparison of a literal translation of the Persian original of lines 1-4 with FitzGerald's successive versions will exemplify his method of translation and recension:

Literal: The sun has thrown the lassoo of dawn over the roof; the emperor of day has thrown the stone into the cup.

1859: Awake! for Morning in the Bowl of Night
Has flung the Stone that puts the Stars to Flight:
And Lo ! the Hunter of the East has caught
The Sultán's Turret in a Noose of Light.

1868: Wake! For the Sun behind yon Eastern height
Has chased the Session of the Stars from Night;
And, to the field of Heav'n ascending, strikes
The Sultán's Turret with a Shaft of Light.

1872-79: Wake! For the Sun who scatter'd 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.

2] "Flinging a stone into the cup was the signal for 'To horse!' in the desert."

5] Dawn's left hand: "the 'false dawn;' ... a transient light on the horizon about an hour before the ... true dawn; a well-known phenomenon in the East."

13] New Year. The Persian year began with the vernal equinox.

15] the White Hand of Moses: an allusion to the sudden appearance of clusters of white blossoms on flowering trees in the spring. FitzGerald cites Exodus 4:6, "where Moses draws forth his hand--not, according to the Persians, 'leprous as snow',--but white as our May-blossom in spring perhaps."

16] suspires: breathes. According to Moslem belief the breath of Christ is a continuously vivifying force, keeping the world alive. The poet alludes here to the earth's renewed vitality in spring.

17] Iram: a legendary garden city, "now sunk somewhere in the sands of Arabia."

18] Jamshýd: monarch of the mythical Pishdadian dynasty--oldest dynasty of Persian legend. "King Splendid" of a golden age, Jamsh{'y}d is credited, in his seven-hundred-year-long reign with the building of Persepolis, the invention of most of the arts of civilization, and the discovery of the benefits of wine. In later Islamic legend he is identified with both King Solomon and Alexander the Great.
Sev'n-ring'd Cup: a magic cup, famous in Persian legend, in which all the activities of the world could be seen. Seven, of course, is a mystic number; FitzGerald comments: "typical of the seven heavens, seven planets, seven seas, etc."

21] David. In Persian poetry David appears as sweet singer and lutanist. FitzGerald probably intends to add the connotation of the sacred singer whose lips are now silent, whereas the nightingale, celebrating the joys of the fleeting present, sings on.

22] Pehleví. In a strict sense, Pahlavi is Middle Persian, the language from about the third to the seventh centuries. In Persian literature, however, Pahlavi is not so much a chronological term as a richly connotative one, gathering up memories of pre-Islamic Persian greatness.

34] Kaikobád and Kaikhosrú: legendary kings of ancient Persia, members of the Kaianid dynasty, celebrated in Firdausí's Sháh-náma. Their names are evocative of past splendour and heroic action.

35] Rustum: the Hercules of Persian legend, champion for centuries of the Kaianid monarchs. Rustum is known to English readers through Matthew Arnold's Sohrab and Rustum.

36] Hátim Tai: an Arab who beggared himself by his excessive bounty. He became, in Oriental literature, a type of lavish generosity.

40] Sultán Mahmúd: Mahmúd of Ghazna, eleventh-century ruler of part of eastern Persia and a large area of Afghanistan, and conqueror of northern India. His celebrated devotion to his slave boy, Ayáz, may be alluded to in line 39.

57] Golden Grain: money.

60] The burial of treasure, an economic necessity to preserve it from theft, is a recurring theme in Persian poetry.

61] Caravanserai: an inn providing shelter for caravans; here it is an image for the world.

66] Courts: Persepolis, called the "Throne of Jamshyd" because tradition named him as its founder.

67] Bahrám: a Persian sovereign of the Sassanid dynasty (ca. 421-38), called Bahrám Gúr--Bahrám of the Wild Ass--for his strength and skill, and his prowess in the hunt.

80] Yesterday's Sev'n Thousand Years: FitzGerald comments cryptically: "a thousand years to each planet." The Persian may be literally translated: "We shall be level with those of seven thousand years ago."

95] Muezzin: a public crier who proclaims the hour of prayer from the minaret of a mosque.

101-02] In the second and subsequent editions these lines were altered to read: "Oh threats of Hell and Hopes of Paradise!/One thing at least is certain--This Life flies."

117-20] The Persian original of this quatrain much milder: "Since neither my entrance into the world nor my departure from it depend upon my own design, rise up, O nimble cup-bearer, for I will wash down the grief of the world with wine" (Ougley MS., 21).

121-22] Omar claims he has pursued knowledge to its farthest human limit. According to the Ptolemaic system the sphere of Saturn was the outermost of the seven concentric planetary spheres surrounding the earth.

127] Me and Thee: "that is, some dividual existence or personality apart from the whole."

129-32] The final version of this stanza reads:

Then of the THEE IN ME who 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"

137-44] Omar frequently ponders the irony of human dust become potter's clay.

161-62] FitzGerald comments: "A jest, of course, at his studies" (note from second edition). Omar was bothphilosopher and mathematician.

166] Angel Shape. FitzGerald's misreading of pírí (old man) as pirí (fairy) has radically altered the spirit of the Persian original of the quatrain.

170] the Two-and-Seventy jarring Sects: "The seventy-two sects into which Islamism so soon split." This note from the first edition is a more accurate rendering of Mohammedan tradition than the revised note of the second and later editions, which reads: "The seventy-two religions supposed to divide the world, including Islamism, as some think: but others not."

173] Mahmúd: see the note at line 40, introduced as metaphor to express the power of wine to dispel sorrow.

174] misbelieving and black Horde. "This alludes to Mahmúd's conquest of India and its swarthy idolaters." In later editions FitzGerald made an interesting change in wording from "swarthy idolaters," a term which accurately expressed the traditional Persian view of Indians, to the less invidious "dark people."

182] Magic Shadow-Show: a magic lantern used all through the middle East, in some places even up to the present time, "the cylindrical interior being painted with various figures, and so lightly poised and ventilated as to revolve round the candle lighted within."

189-92] In its third and final version this stanza reads:

So when the Angel of the darker Drink
At last shall find you by the river-brink,
And, offering his Cup, invite your Soul
Forth to your Lips to quaff--you shall not shrink.

195] mates: checkmates.

213] starting from the Goal: continues the concept introduced in stanza LIII: goal and starting point are one in the cycle of existence.

214] flaming Foal Of Heav'n: a common metaphor for the sun in Persian literature.

215] Parwín and Mushtara: the Pleiades and Jupiter.

218] Súfi: Moslem mystic and ascetic. The name early became associated with extravagant observances and a sense of election.

225] Gin: snare.

227] Predestination: in the second and subsequent editions this word was altered to read "Predestin'dEvil."

231-32] These two lines were based on FitzGerald's misconception of a perfectly orthodox passage in Omar (Calcutta MS., 292): "O Lord, grant me repentance and accept my excuse, You who grant repentance and accept the excuse of every man." E. B. Cowell pointed out to FitzGerald his misinterpretation of Omar's lines, but FitzGerald chose to retain what he had written, believing it consistent with Omar's general spirit.

232] KÚZANAMA: "Book of Pots"; the sub-heading was removed in later editions. FitzGerald notes in the third edition: "This relation of Pot and Potter to Man and his Maker figures far and wide in the literature of the world, from the time of the Hebrew prophets to the present." In FitzGerald's own day Browning made notable use of the metaphor in "Rabbi Ben Ezra," possibly in reply to FitzGerald's Omar.

234] Ramazán: in Islam a month of strict fasting.
better Moon: the new moon heralding the end of Ramazán and ushering in the month of Shawwál with a three-day long festival.

253-56] In its final version this stanza reads:

`Why,' said another, `Some there are who tell
Of one who threatens he will toss to Hell
The luckless Pots he marr'd in making--Pish!
He's a Good Fellow, and 't will all be well."

262] little Crescent: the "better Moon" of line 234.

264] the Porter's shoulder-knot: a device for carrying his wares--jars of wine to celebrate the end of Ramazán.

289] In the third and fourth editions this line became: "Ah, Love! could you and I with Him conspire."

297] Thyself: the "Moon of my Delight" of line 293, the Sákí who pours his wine.
TAMÁM SHUD: The End.


Online text copyright © 2011, Ian Lancashire (the Department of English) and the University of Toronto.
Published by the Web Development Group, Information Technology Services, University of Toronto Libraries.

Original text: [Edward Fitzgerald], Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám (March 1859). See Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám / translated into English quatrains by Edward FitzGerald; a complete reprint of the 1st ed. and the combined 3d, 4th, and 5th editions, with an appendix containing Fitzgerald's prefaces and notes, ed. Louis Untermeyer (New York: Random House, 1947). PK 6513 .A1 St. Michael's College Library.
First publication date: 1859
RPO poem editor: Margaret Frances (Sister St. Francis) Nims
RP edition: 3RP 3.11.
Recent editing: 2:2002/4/25*1:2010/3/28*1:2011/11/12

Rhyme: aaba


Other poems by Edward FitzGerald