Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,
Before we too into the Dust Descend;
Dust into Dust, under Dust, to lie,
Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer and - sans End!
Why, all the Saints and Sages who discuss'd
Of the Two Worlds so learnedly, are thrust
Like follish Prophets forth; their Words to Scorn
Are scatter'd, and their Mouths are stopt with Dust.
Oh, come with old Khayyam, and leave the Wise
To talk; one thing is certain that Life flies;
One thing is certain, and the Rest is Lies;
The Flower that once has blown for ever dies.
With them the Seed of Wisdom did I sow,
And with my own hand labour'd it to grow:
And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd -
"I came like Water, and like Wind I go".
Omar Khayyam (1048-1122) - The Rubaiyat.
May You Be
4 years ago