Page:Quatrains of Omar Khayyam (tr. Whinfield, 1883).djvu/294

This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.




Death finds us soiled, though we were pure at birth,
With grief we go, although we came with mirth;
    Watered with tears, and burned with fires of woe.
And, casting life to winds, we rest in earth!


To find great Jamshed's world-reflecting bowl
I compassed sea and land, and viewed the whole;
    But, when I asked the wary sage, I learned
That bowl was my own body, and my soul!


Me, cruel Queen! you love to captivate,
And from a knight to a poor pawn translate;
    You marshal all your force to tire me out,
You take my rooks with yours, and then checkmate!

354.   C. L. A. I. J.

355.   L.   King Jamshed's cup, which reflected the whole world, is the Holy Grail of Persian poetry.   Meaning, "man is the microcosm."   See note on No. 340.   In line 2 scan naghnúdem.