The devotee knows not how to appreciate as well as
we Thy divine pity. A stranger can never know Thee
as perfectly as a friend. [They pretend] that Thou hast
said: If you commit sin, I will send you into Hell. Go
now—tell that to one who knows Thee not.
A cup of wine is worth the empire of the universe;
the brick which covers the jar is worth a thousand lives.
The napkin with which one wipes lips moistened with
wine is indeed worth a thousand turbans.
O Friends! meet together [after my death]. Once reunited,
rejoice in being together and, when the cupbearer
takes in his hand a cup of old wine, remember poor
Khayyam and drink to his memory.
Not a single time has the Wheel of Heaven been propitious
to me, never for one instant has it allowed me
to hear a sweet voice, not a day has it given me a
second of happiness but that very day it has plunged
me into an abyss of grief.
A cup of wine is worth a hundred hearts, a hundred
creeds, a mouthful of this juice divine is worth the Empire
of China. What is there, truly, on the earth preferable
to wine? It is a bitter that is a hundred times
sweeter than life.