Omar Khayyam, The Rubaiyat

Απόψε έχω κέφι για κάτι διαφορετικό. Μερικά από τα τετράστιχα του Omar Khayyam, σε μετάφραση του Edward Fitzgerald. Μνήμες της νιότης μου. Αφιερωμένα σε όλους εκείνους που αγάπησα και χάθηκαν για πάντα. Ας με συγχωρήσουν όσοι δεν μπορούν να τα απολαύσουν στα αγγλικά.

A book of Verses underneath the Bough,
A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread - and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness -
Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!

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.

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 more of Thee and Me.

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 has blown for ever dies.

The Moving Finger writes; and having writ,
Moves 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 it.