1
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
Sultan's Turret in a Noose of Light.
2
Dreaming
when Dawn's Left Hand was in the Sky
I
heard a Voice within the Tavern cry,
"Awake,
my Little ones, and fill the Cup
Before
Life's Liquor in its Cup be dry."
3
And,
as the Cock crew, those who stood before
The
Tavern shouted -'' Open then the Door!
You
know how little while we have to stay,
And,
once departed, may return no more."
4
Now
the New Year reviving old Desires,
The
thoughtful Soul to Solitude retires,
Where
the WHITE HAND OF MOSES on the Bough
Puts
out, and Jesus from the Ground suspires.
5
Iram
indeed is gone with all its Rose,
And
Jamshyd's Sev'n-ring'd Cup where no one knows;
But
still the Vine her ancient Ruby yields,
And
still a Garden by the Water blows.
6
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
yellow Cheek of her's to incarnadine.
7
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.
8
And
look - a thousand Blossoms with the Day
Woke
- and a thousand scatter'd into Clay:
And
this first Summer Month that brings the Rose
Shall
take Jamshyd and Kaikobad away.
9
But
come with old Khayyam, and leave the Lot
Of
Kaikobad and Kaikhosru forgot:
Let
Rustum lay about him as he will,
Or
Hatim Tai cry Supper - heed them not.
10
With
me along some Strip of Herbage strown
That
just divides the desert from the sown,
Where
name of Slave and Sultan scarce is known,
And
pity Sultan Mahmud on his Throne.
11
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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.
12
"How
sweet is mortal Sovranty ! " - think some:
Others
- "How blest the Paradise to come ! "
Ah,
take the Cash in hand and waive the Rest;
Oh,
the brave Music of a distant Drum!
13
Look
to the Rose that blows 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."
14
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.
15
And
those who husbanded the Golden Grain,
And
those who flung it to the Winds like Rain,
Alike
to no such aureate Earth are turn'd
As,
buried once, Men want dug up again.
16
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.
17
They
say the Lion and the Lizard keep
The
Courts where Jamshyd gloried and drank deep:
And
Bahram, that great Hunter - the Wild Ass
Stamps
o'er his Head, and he lies fast asleep.
18
I
sometimes think that never blows so red
The
Rose as where some buried Caesar bled;
That
every Hyacinth the Garden wears
Dropt
in its Lap from some once lovely Head.
19
And
this delightful Herb whose tender Green
Fledges
the River's Lip on which we lean -
Ah,
lean upon it lightly ! for who knows
From
what once lovely Lip it springs unseen !
20
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.
21
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Lo!
some we loved, the loveliest and best
That
Time and Fate of all their Vintage prest,
Have
drunk their Cup a Round or two before,
And
one by one crept silently to Rest.
22
And
we, that now make merry in the Room
They
left, and Summer dresses in new Bloom,
Ourselves
rnust we beneath the Couch of Earth
Descend,
ourselves to make a Couch - for whom?
23
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 !
24
Alike
for those who for TO-DAY prepare,
And
those that after a TO-MORROW stare,
A
Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries
"Fools
! your Reward is neither Here nor There!'
25
Why,
all the Saints and Sages who discuss'd
Of
the Two Worlds so learnedly, are thrust
Like
foolish Prophets forth; their Words to Scorn
Are
scatter'd, and their Mouths are stopt with Dust.
26
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.
27
Myself
when young did eagerly frequent
Doctor
and Saint, and heard great Argument
About
it and about: but evermore
Came
out by the same Door as in I went.
28
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."
29
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 blowing.
30
What,
without asking, hither hurried whence?
And,
without asking, whither hurried hence !
Another
and another Cup to drown
The
Memory of this Impertinence !
31
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Up
from Earth's Centre through the Seventh Gate
I
rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate,
And
many Knots unravel'd by the Road;
But
not the Knot of Human Death and Fate.
32
There
was a Door to which I found no Key:
There
was a Veil past which I could not see:
Some
little Talk awhile of ME and THEE
There
seem'd - and then no more of THEE and ME.
33
Then
to the rolling Heav'n itself I cried,
Asking,
" What Lamp had Destiny to guide
Her
little Children stumbling in the Dark?"
And
- "A blind Understanding!" Heav'n replied.
34
Then
to this earthen Bowl did I adjourn
My
Lip the secret Well of Life to learn:
And
Lip to Lip it murmur'd - "While you live
Drink
! - for once dead you never shall return."
35
I
think the Vessel, that with fugitive
Articulation
answer'd, once did live,
And
merry-make; and the cold Lip I kiss'd
How
many Kisses might it take - and give !
36
For
in the Market-place, one Dusk of Day,
I
watch'd the Potter thumping his wet Clay:
And
with its all obliterated Tongue
It
murmur'd - "Gently, Brother, gently, pray!"
37
Ah,
fill the Cup: - what boots it to repeat
How
Time is slipping underneath our Feet:
Unborn
TO-M0RROW, and dead YESTERDAY,
Why
fret about them if TO-DAY be sweet !
38
One
Moment in Annihilation's Waste,
One
Moment, of the Well of Life to taste -
The
Stars are setting and the Caravan
Starts
for the Dawn of Nothing - Oh, make haste !
39
How
long, how long, in infinite Pursuit
Of
This and That endeavour and dispute?
Better
be merry with the fruitful Grape
Than
sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit.
40
You
know, my Friends, how long since in my House
For
a new Marriage I did make Carouse:
Divorced
old barren Reason from my Bed,
And
took the Daughter of the Vine to Spouse.
41
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For
"IS" and "IS-NOT" though with Rule and Line,
And
"UP-AND-DOWN" without, I could define,
I
yet in all I only cared to know,
Was
never deep in anything but - Wine.
42
And
lately, by the Tavern Door agape,
Came
stealing through the Dusk an Angel Shape
Bearing
a Vessel on his Shoulder; and
He
bid me taste of it; and 'twas - the Grape!.
43
The
Grape that can with Logic absolute
The
Two-and-Seventy jarring Sects confute:
The
subtle Alchemist that in a Trice
Life's
leaden Metal into Gold transmute.
44
The
mighty Mahmud, the victorious Lord,
That
all the misbelieving and black Horde
Of
Fears and Sorrows that infest the Soul.
Scatters
and slays with his enchanted Sword.
45
But
leave the Wise to wrangle, and with me
The
Quarrel of the Universe let be:
And,
in some corner of the Hubbub coucht,
Make
Game of that which makes as much of Thee.
46
For
in and out, above, about, below,
'Tis
nothing but a Magic Shadow-show,
Play'd
in a Box whose Candle is the Sun,
Round
which we Phantom Figures come and go.
47
And
if the Wine you drink, the Lip you press,
End
in the Nothing all Things end in - Yes -
Then
fancy while Thou art, Thou art but what
Thou
shalt be - Nothing - Thou shalt not be less.
48
While
the Rose blows along the River Brink,
With
old Khayyam the Ruby Vintage drink:
And
when the Angel with his darker Draught
Draws
up to Thee - take that, and do not shrink.
49
'Tis
all a Chequer-board of Nights and Days
Where
Destiny with Men for Pieces plays:
Hither
and thither moves, and mates, and slays,
And
one by one back in the Closet lays.
50
The
Ball no Question makes of Ayes and Noes,
But
Right or Left as strikes the Player goes;
And
He that toss'd Thee down into the Field,
He
knows about it all - HE knows - HE knows !
51
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The
Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves
on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall
lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor
all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.
52
And
that inverted Bowl we call The Sky,
Whereunder
crawling coop't we live and die,
Lift
not thy hands to It for help - for It
Rolls
impotently on as Thou or I.
53
With
Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man's knead,
And
then of the Last Harvest sow'd the Seed:
Yea,
the first Morning of Creation wrote
What
the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read.
54
I
tell Thee this - When, starting from the Goal,
Over
the shoulders of the flaming Foal
Of
Heav'n Parwin and Mushtara they flung,
In
my predestin’d Plot of Dust and Soul.
55
The
Vine had struck a Fibre; which about
If
clings my Being - let the Sufi flout;
Of
my Base Metal may be filed a Key,
That
shall unlock the Door he howls without.
56
And
this I know: whether the one True Light,
Kindle
to Love, or Wrath consume me quite,
One
glimpse of It within the Tavern caught
Better
than in the Temple lost outright.
57
Oh,
Thou, who didst - with Pitfall and with Gin
Beset
the Road I was to wander in,
Thou
wilt not with Predestination round
Enmesh
me, and impute my Fall to Sin?
58
Oh,
Thou, who Man of baser Earth didst make,
And
who with Eden didst devise the Snake;
For
all the Sin where with the Face of Man
Is
blacken'd, Man's Forgiveness give - and take !
KUZA-NAMA
59
Listen
again. One evening at the Close
Of
Ramazan, ere the better Moon arose,
In
that old Potter's Shop I stood alone
With
the clay Population round in Rows.
60
And,
strange to tell, among that Earthen Lot
Some
could articulate, while others not:
And
suddenly one more impatient cried-
Who
is the Potter, pray, and who the Pot ?
61
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Then
said another - "Surely not in vain
My
Substance from the common Earth was ta'en,
That
He who subtly wrought me into Shape
Should
stamp me back to common Earth again."
62
Another
said - "Why ne'er a peevish Boy,
Would
break the Bowl from which he drank in Joy;
Shall
He that made the Vessel in pure Love
And
Fancy, in an after Rage destroy !"
63
None
answer'd this ; but after Silence spake
A
Vessel of a more ungainly Make:
"They
sneer at me for leaning all awry
What
! did the Hand then of the Potter shake ?"
64
Said
one - "Folks of a surly Tapster tell,
And
daub his Visage with the Smoke of Hell;
They
talk of some strict Testing of us - Pish !
He's
a Good Fellow, and 'twill all be well."
65
Then
said another with a long-drawn Sigh,
"My
Clay with long oblivion is gone dry:
But,
fill me with the old familiar juice,
Methinks
I might recover by-and-bye !"
66
So
while the Vessels one by one were speaking,
One
spied the little Crescent all were seeking:
And
then they jogged each other, "Brother ! Brother !
Hark
to the Porter's Shoulder-knot a-creaking !"
67
Ah,
with the Grape my fading Life provide,
And
wash my Body whence the Life has died,
And
in a Windingsheet of Vine-leaf wrapt,
So
bury me by some sweet Garden-side.
68
That
ev'n my buried Ashes such a Snare
Of
Perfume shall fling up into the Air,
As
not a True Believer passing by
But
shall be overtaken unaware.
69
Indeed
the Idols I have loved so long
Have
done my Credit in Men's Eye much wrong;
Have
drown'd my Honour in a shallow Cup,
And
sold my Reputation for a Song.
70
Indeed,
indeed, Repentance oft before
I
swore - but was I sober when I swore ?
And
then and then came Spring, and Rose-in-hand
My
thread-bare Penitence apieces tore.
71
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And
much as Wine has play'd the Infidel,
And
robb'd me of my Robe of Honour - well,
I
often wonder what the Vintners buy
One
half so precious as the Goods they sell.
72
Alas,
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 !
73
Ah
Love ! could thou and I with Fate conspire
To
grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,
Would
not we shatter it to bits - and then
Re-mould
it nearer to the Heart's Desire !
74
Ah,
Moon of my Delight who know'st no wane,
The
Moon of Heav'n is rising once again:
How
oft hereafter rising shall she look
Through
this same Garden after me - in vain!
75
And
when Thyself with shining Foot shall pass
Among
the Guests Star-scatter'd on the Grass,
And
in thy joyous Errand reach the Spot
Where
I made one - turn down an empty Glass !
TAMAM
SHUD
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