137 The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam


Selected, translated from English and
Chinese calligraphy by the Buddhist Yogi C. M. Chen

Then, as the Rooster crowed, those at the Door
Of the Towers cried, "Let's enter before
Our uncertain moments, run through the Glass
Of Life, and once gone through, return no more."

Again, the Sun has viewed Earth's circled round--
Its secret, when and how no one has found;
In life, no one has found the Mystic Door
Where all shall enter, in deep silence bound.

Regarding the Joy and Sorrow we see,
It all comes to Nothing where one may be;
The sweet Juice of Life just trickles away,
As Life's Leaves fall into Eternity.

Let us, the Dream of Paradise forsake,
And in the Here and Now, our Lives remake,
And strive to take each day a priceless Pearl
Of great Beauty from our unfathomed Lake.

And while the Sun removed the starry Night,
A voice within the Mosque, that seemed not right
Cried, "Have the Traveler and his Treasure
Enter, and with us, see the Holy Light!"

In man, the Seed of Reason I did plant,
And towards Him, the great Immortal slant;
But ah, poor Me, the only thing I reaped
Were hot words, ending in a foaming rant.

Facts are not merely in the Up or Down,
Or to be measured by our going 'round
A circle, which centers its pivot point
Within you, till it makes a lifeless mound.

How can it be that a great Showman knows
About us and the endless Wave that flows--
A Moment, then in other shapes and forms
Appears again, in other Cosmic Shows?

Yes, it is human weakness to define
Any blind belief, as something Divine;
Tomorrow's not here, Yesterday's a Dream--
Today's Sun can only this moment Shine.

Beware of the One, who in Darkness cries:
"Hear ye, your salvation comes from the Skies."
Heed not the words of Heaven's Open Gate,
For many thousand Graves cry otherwise.

If Heaven and Hell are a burning Thought,
How can we know who this misery wrought?
When today, while you are you, not knowing,
What will you know, when you have turned to Naught?

If, with Allah's Breath into Being came
The good, the bad, then everything the same
Must be in the Eyes of Truth and He who
Knows about it all, must accept the blame.

I have no regrets of the days gone by--
There is no reason now, why I should sigh;
But I can well remember her dear Face
As She stood close to Me, yes very nigh.

Why should we cast a Net into a Lake
Where we cannot even a minnow take?
Or, why should we a worthless Treasure seek
When Reason tells us it is all a Fake?

All will in the Eternal Cosmos Sleep--
Where in unending calm, we too will keep
Silent, and there all our Twiddle-Twaddle
Will be submerged in the Tears others weep.

It is best, Dear Heart, that we quickly turn
From the Past and about the Present learn--:
See the Me in Thee, then all doubt will end,
And the Fires of Hell shall no longer Burn.

All life is involved in terrific toil,
A mighty struggle to open the Coil
Of the Great Unknown, which around us moves
In unending Circles, we may not foil.

How can we find the True, and if we knew
About Something which would give us a Clue
Where the weary Pilgrim might rest his Feet,
We would happily give Allah his due!

For when we cast our Prison Bars aside
And free on the all-Universal glide;
How can there be Sorrow? We shall be free
When we the Wings of Eternity ride!

It is wisdom to let our kindness show
With many great Hearts, who lived long ago;
And then, like many beautiful Rivers
We may thus into lovely Oceans flow.

Then the Thee in Me, went to Outer Space,
And there around the distant Stars did race;
Hoping to find the Great Almighty One,
But, heard not there His Voice, nor saw His Face.

Perhaps it is the "I" in Me that stands
In front of Me hiding the unknown Strands;
If this be so, why not stand at my Side
And then, clasp and hold Me within Thy Hands?

My thoughts from the Past to the Future raced,
And 'round and around, Man's destiny chased,
Hoping to find a part beyond Myself
And found it with immortal Wisdom paced.

So year after year, the Flowers will bloom,
And then comes Fall, and you too leave the Room;
While the unnumbered years will come and go
As we all weave a Thread on Kismet's Loom.

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