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Orange strong - pure, simple, primary, consonantal Blue mixed - consonant blend or vocalic with consonant White weak - dangling, split, secondary, inexact, vocalic |
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| 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. |
|
Apollo hefts
that Gauntlet high
to throw --
That Artemis affronting Gesture's Sight Thrusts out anon her Tent of Black, and Oh! The Sun effulgent shines on, Halo White! |
| 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." |
|
In silent Morn, the Lawn still
wet
with
Dew,
The friendly Owner of the Pub said: "Drink! Ah, come! A lusty Bacchic Vial quaff, Ere ye despair, and in the Grave ye sink." |
| 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." |
|
Oh Rooster! when it crowed we
Men who drink
Turned to the Pub: "Oh welcome! No Delay! Old Throats crave Oceans of Nepenthe sweet - A Vodka on the House? thy Treat today!" |
| 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. |
|
Oh how Youth do perpetuate Life's
Germ
If Winter's ghoulish Loneliness adjourns; The Future? those hued Trees do show us It! O God's green Thumb the View so verdant turns. |
| Iram indeed
is
gone with all his Rose,
And Jamshýd'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. |
|
That Sultan's
Star,
now in, it vanishes!
Oh, to his Kingdom we will bid "Good-bye!" But ne'er shall "Wet Springs" Ranch Land ended be; Nay! Wine's red, merry Juice shall never die! |
| And David's Lips
are lock't; 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. |
|
With heavenly Voice, O Noise inspired,
we chant
"This Red Ale! Drink it up!", elated singing. Ah, Finch, to a white Violet chirp "Pink!" O see it redden! -- warble then, while winging. |
| 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. |
|
I'd beg
a Sip, if it be
April Grape,
Romancing Life before its Thrill doth melt. Youth in the Wind can flutter off, O then No new Enchantment with dry Age's felt. |
| Whether at Naishapur or Babylon,
Whether the Cup with sweet or bitter run, The Wine of Life keeps oozing drop by drop, The Leaves of Life keep falling one by one. |
|
If People one safe happy
Zenith know,
Or trapped by Hell with Woe in Terror be; Ah, the bubbly River of our fleeting Weeks Doth flow unceasing there into the Sea. |
| Morning a thousand Roses brings,
you say;
Yes, but where leaves the Rose of Yesterday? And this first Summer Month that brings the Rose Shall take Jamshýd and Kaikobád away. |
|
This Dawn Sky's heating Rays rejuvenate
Those Herbs of May; but Oh, I am dismayed At last Year's shrunken Buds - the transient Dross. Oh mark how Mortals' bygone Glories fade. |
| But come
with old Khayyám,
and leave the
Lot
Of Kaikobád and Kaikhosrú forgot! Let Rustum cry "To Battle!" as he likes, Or Hátim Tai cry Supper--heed them not. |
|
Ah, amble by
me, busy Fuss
forsake;
Avoid all Company with Duke or Sheikh. Attack to kill, delight to maim? Oh Truce! Don't hurt. Or eye the Treat?--do not partake! |
| With me along the strip
of Herbage strown
That just divides the Desert from the sown, Where name of Slave and Sultán is forgot -- And pity Máhmúd on his golden Throne! |
|
The Dream! out under hanging Palms
a-bloom,
With she who jests and savors this short Life -- Envied of Men of Power, Glory-men, Hunted with Danger that attends to Strife. |
| 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! |
|
A Poem, and Trees a-blowing
in a Wind.
A Brew I'll drink -- base Needs of other Stuff Ignore. Ah see here how we do behave; Indeed for us a Song is just enough. |
| Some
for the Glories of This World; and some
Sigh for the Prophet's Paradise to come; Ah, take the Cash, and let the Promise go, Nor heed the Rumble of a distant Drum! |
|
Doth Man chase Comforts, Gold,
and high Regard?
Or seeks he out Priest, Minister, the Pope? Ah Lord, I'd taste the best of Human Life; O let me shed a far Tomorrow's Hope. |
| Were it not Folly, Spider-like
to spin
The Thread of present Life away to win -- What? for ourselves, who know not if we shall Breathe out the very Breath we now breathe in! |
|
If we're intent to Hope
for heavenly
Bliss,
Oh, Profit in the Earth away we throw -- Better we briefly taste Love's Pleasure, for What Hour we'll sink in Death we do not know! |
| 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." |
|
A Title Hope in Earth, oh Ego?
No!
Lo, Nature's short Blooms show us What? We learn To say "Good-bye."--all Assets in the World, Like Nature's Gifts, back to the Dust return. |
| 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. |
|
The Riches People think will last
so long
Go sour -- or persist and Worth retain; See Dew upon the Grass out in the Sun -- So Fortune spent doth hardly yet remain. |
| 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. |
|
Lo, when a Niggard audits Banks,
and when
An anguished Teen at Sin a Fortune throws, Ah Both, I'd augur, rate an untouched Death: Like Dung, to Ore will Neither decompose. |
| 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. |
|
Oh in our weary
Habitation, Earth,
Eternal Windows framed by Dusk and Dawn, A Pharaoh's Star view - watch it shatter, Heir, Washed up, not long to stay in this Salon. |
| They say the Lion
and the Lizard
keep
The Courts where Jamshýd gloried and drank deep: And Bahrám, that great Hunter--the Wild Ass Stamps o'er his Head, but cannot break his Sleep. |
|
Majestic Shahs at grand Persepolis,
By proud Beast Herds attended at their Peak; Mark what great Monarchs doze, all hushed by Death; Ruined, in Hell, down in the Earth they sneak. |
| The Palace
that to Heav'n his Pillars
threw,
And Kings the Forehead on his Threshold drew-- I saw the solitary Ringdove there, And "Coo, coo, coo," she cried; and "Coo, coo, coo." |
|
Oh Castle high,
on whose heraldic
Door
Do these, the Royals of late honored Lines, The Visage paint -- see that a Dove doth chirp, A Cockdoth crow, a Crow on Carrion dines. |
| 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. |
|
It seems,
when in a shaded
silent
Park,
That every Blossom, every Chaplet's Bud, Grows rather more attractive to Man's Eye On Soil enriched here with famed Heroes' Blood. |
| 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! |
|
Ah, kneel in high Respect
when at the Springs;
Honor when viewing Flowers in the Dell; Lo, from one vanished fine Soul far below This pretty, sightly Garden could upwell. |
| 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. |
|
My Friend, salute
my happy Serum
sweet
That Care aborts and Worry holds at bay. Give me TODAY! O Why? Life's over fast - Fed to the Worms, our Flesh returns to Clay. |
| 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. |
|
Those I've adored that born
to freedom's Hope,
Know not a Course but "Carpe Diem!", They've Life's Bottle tasted fervently till All Turn in to sleep, and now are in the Grave. |
| And we, that now make
merry
in the Room
They left, and Summer dresses in new Bloom, Ourselves must we beneath the Couch of Earth Descend, ourselves to make a Couch -- for whom? |
|
Ah with much
Fondness we remember
now
Those lovely Folks tucked far below, esteemed; And then Tomorrow, Autumn, our Turn comes - A Vacancy, eh? Time so short here has seemed! |
| Ah, make
the most of what
we may yet 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! |
|
We'd best attempt to get Enchantment's
Kiss,
As handed us in the due Season rife; Why? O ye mute down under Dirt do go, To end sans Sound, sans Wants, and so -- sans Life! |
| Alike for those who for To-day
prepare,
And those that after some To-morrow stare, A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries "Fools! Your Reward is neither Here nor There!" |
|
Oh Those
that
worry of that Time far
off,
Or worry now and hoard for One that's near, Do Errors sore make, and must Elsewhere look To seize their secret Prize supreme, I fear. |
| Why, all the Saints
and Sages who
discuss'd
Of the Two Worlds so learnedly, are thrust Like foolish Prophets forth; their Works to Scorn Are scatter'd, and their Mouths are stopt with Dust. |
|
So, Wisdom
of those worldly
Thinker's Words,
Truths sacrosanct, propounded Thoughts, that fade Like worthless Errors, that we trust, they wane; False Scholarship to rest in Death is laid. |
| 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. |
|
Mentored by Guru, and Rabbi devout,
Who many a Quandry fought, Men at debate. Reason oft circularly seen, it seemed That I was doomed to an e'er turning Gate. |
| 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." |
|
Ah, Knowledge! Education's widen'd
Base,
I vow'd to add while wandering mid Earth. The Pity is I'm mortal, fed to Worms; I think ahead: "All this! What was it worth?" |
| 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. |
|
In Life will thy End be not Unknown
Deeds?
Will ye Ovation glowing want to win When ye on Wings will flirt anon with Stars? Oh I think ye will walk, to your Chagrin! |
| What,
without
asking,
hither
hurried
whence?
And, without asking, whither hurried hence! Another and another Cup to drown The Memory of this Impertinence! |
|
Oh to and fro with urgent Whim
we trek;
Hike here and there in mad chaotic Rush. O earn unhappy Torment in this Earth? To end, with Wine our hectic Grind we hush. |
| 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 Master-Knot of Human Fate. |
|
Ah, by the Theban Rampart strong
I sought
To understand the tyrant Stars of Men; Ah Fortune, Heaven-sent, thou art not free; The Luck, then Doom, of Man evades our Ken. |
| There was the Door to which I
found no Key:
There was the Veil through which I could not see: Some little talk awhile of Me and Thee There was -- and then no more of Thee and Me. |
|
I mark the Sheet that hindered
Light and View:
O too, the Way whose Lock would not release. Do we Men find Thee, Home of human Truth? O if not, O then here the Search will cease. |
| 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. |
|
I'd Seek a Lord transcendent that
all Things
Can plan -- He'd end intending Virtue bright? "If all Men grovel badly in rude Sin, Wilt Thou, kind-hearted, help?" He said, "I might!" |
| Earth could not answer; nor the
Seas that mourn
In flowing Purple, of their Lord forlorn; Nor Heav'n, with those eternal Signs reveal'd And hidden by the sleeve of Night and Morn. |
|
Our World hath loathed Reply;
and Neptune's Froth
Hath grown bereft of Strength here, Master gone. Oh covered Realm divine? No, fallen still! Nor Vision had in Sunset, nor in Dawn. |
| Then to the Lip of this poor earthen
Urn
I lean'd, 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." |
|
An Honor fell
to me, for my
true Friend
The Cup I took: Help, sound Advice distilled: "I'll warn you errant People: Fate turns - Lo, An Hurt? Oh revel there in Wine." I thrilled! |
| 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! |
|
As with the talkative Container
I
Did flirt, and to me wise Advice he gave, I trust, my Man, he did his lewd Kicks get - O is it darling silken Nymphs? Thou Knave! |
| 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!" |
|
The Master, real skill'd at working
Dirt,
That Pile of Putty threw - a-yelling by, It whimpered in an Accent crude: "Oh me! Don't batter me that rough; pound softly, Guy." |
| And has not
such
a Story from
of Old
Down Man's successive Generations roll'd Of such a Clod of saturated Earth Cast by the Maker into human Mould? |
|
As in Accounts of how God models
Dirt,
As Man He sketches, crafted out of Clay, So can an Urn savant, Lord Mr. Mud, Out of mute Sand his "Hello Brother" say. |
| Ah, fill the Cup :--what boots
it to repeat
How Time is slipping underneath our Feet: Unborn TO-MORROW, and dead YESTERDAY, Why fret about them if TO-DAY be sweet! |
|
Imbibe! O worry not that Life's
Hope drifts;
The Day gone by, the Future not yet here: Do tenuous NOW remember, not a Fad - What's up-to-date, watch: it will disappear! |
| And not a Drop
that from our Cups we throw
For Earth to drink of, but may steal below To quench the fire of Anguish in some Eye There hidden--far beneath, and long ago. |
|
Liquor beneath the Ground
undo hot Pain!
Offer thy Honey as a Sea of Balm. Soothe the deep Torment and wash off dark Woe, A tortured Wretch in burning Grief to calm. |
| As then the Tulip
for her wonted Sup
Of Heavenly Vintage lifts her Chalice up, Do you, twin Offspring of the Soil, till Heav'n To Earth invert you like an empty Cup. |
|
Ah, see the purple Violet catch
the Drops
Of Life reviving Nutrient divine! Supply thy Soul, thou Progeny of Clay, With Lakes of Ale, then, from that Fountain, Wine. |
| Do you,
within your little
Hour of Grace,
The waving Cypress in your Arms enlace, Before the Mother back into her Arms Fold, and dissolve you in a last Embrace. |
|
Ere you by Charon to a frigid
Realm
Of Death are ferried by his Ark, thy Chance Lose not to revel in Love's sumptuous Glow, Warm Sensibility and Touch -- Romance! |
| A Moment's Halt -- a momentary
Taste
Of Being from the Well amid the Waste -- And Lo! the phantom Caravan has reach'd The Nothing it set out from -- Oh, make haste! |
|
Lament the Saga of a human Fate,
The Months of Man's short, vain, and mortal Path That to the desert Origin comes back: We eye him all worm-eaten - do the Math! |
| Oh, plagued no more
with Human or
Divine,
To-morrow's Tangle to itself resign, And lose your Fingers in the Tresses of The Cypress-slender Minister of Wine. |
|
To worry of Men's Pedigrees? Do
not!
Or of their Righteousness, their Sins mundane. I'll fete the Women in Seraglios, Let's drown in lusty Rivers of Champagne. |
| Waste not
your Hour, nor
in the vain Pursuit
Of This and That Endeavor and Dispute; Better be merry with the fruitful Grape Than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit. |
|
If round you'd hurry and with
Argument
The Venture that is Profit-bound obtain; Potations festive rather we'd prefer To banal transient Futures there - the Drain! |
| You know, my Friends, with
what
a brave Carouse
I made a Second Marriage in my House; Divorced old barren Reason from my Bed, And took the Daughter of the Vine to Spouse. |
|
Oh, Logic's bossy Humours I've
renounced;
From a chaste, modest, proud Vow off I break. And wed that rare, young, radiant Dame, Red Wine - Ah, in my Bosom her I've yearned to take. |
| For "IS" and "IS NOT" though with
Rule and Line,
And "UP-AND-DOWN" by Logic I define, Of all that one should care to fathom, I Was never deep in anything but--Wine. |
|
Did Reason's candent Sun illume
a Law
Newtonian by apt Logicians' Thought? Dew of the Vine one hundred fifty Proof - O Oil in Hand, in HER Law I'd be taught. |
| 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! |
|
A noble God in "Beer
Shed" Bar appears
As through a Passageway in Heaven's Vault. He did decant: "Let's drink! Grant Health to thee!" Alas, he egged me on - it's not my Fault! |
| 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. |
|
Get Gin and Ice; to Men in cultic,
hot,
Fanatic Arguments bid thee farewell: Enjoy that solvent Claret's Taste that will That human Scourge, the sober State, dispel. |
| The mighty
Mahmúd,
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. |
|
A Monarch fought: "Let die, a
brutal Host!"
Whacking this Infidel that storms the Wall; And thy sad Cross? by Christ it is removed; Ah, thus Men's Dread does now the Vine forestall. |
| Why, be this Juice the growth
of God, who dare
Blaspheme the twisted Tendril as Snare? A Blessing, we should use it, should we not? And if a Curse -- why, then, Who set it there? |
|
Hiss at the Grape,
God's
Gift
to us with
which
We wash the wounded Heart? Let's not! Indeed, We shed our Torments. Ah, her blissful Joy! The curly Bine's a Weal - This be no Weed! |
| I must abjure the Balm of Life,
I must,
Scared by some After-reckoning ta'en on trust, Or lured with Hope of some Diviner Drink, To fill the Cup--when crumbled into Dust! |
|
Should I a pungent fluid
Thrill refuse?
A Cider? My! the Bottle seek to curb. And vow, in Faith's Contentment drunk, to wait For promised Juice from some Sublimer Herb. |
| If but
the Vine and Love-abjuring Band
Are in the Prophet's Paradise to stand, Alack, I doubt the Prophet's Paradise Were empty as the hollow of one's Hand. |
|
Herald that Gospel Joy ineffable;
Ah, think: "That sacred Rapture!", but remove Hot hidden Passion - and Beer's Happiness? Libation out! A Dew we don't approve. |
| But
leave the Wise
to wrangle, and
with
me
The Quarrel of the Universe let be: And, in some corner of the Hubbub couch'd, Make Game of that which makes as much of Thee. |
|
Men fret: "Ah, seek
the Gem of Truth above" -
See how: encumbered quite with glib Debate. I have a Hunch all's Luck, or random Chance; We thumb our Noses at the Whim of Fate! |
| 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. |
|
A hub of War, chaotic human Flux!
His macho Pageant? Wounded Mob downcast Who, God-abandoned, bow in Ruin see - I view those ghostly Outlines orbing past. |
| 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. |
|
You'll learn this euphuistic Truth:
that
though
Thy shining Life doth fill the Body now, An unseen Being plants it 'neath the Dust - That Bane! don't seek, in Reason, why nor how. |
| So when the Angel of the darker
Drink
At last shall find you by the River-brink, And, offering his Cup, invite your Soul Forth to your Lips to quaff--you shall not shrink. |
|
Oh, yonder Whisky Inn! you I have
heard:
"This Brain-rot's good!", an Offer ne'er I'll spurn. "Try killer Vodka, nifty, loathful Stuff." Oh Throat be quick, his Flagons let's upturn. |
| And fear not lest Existence closing
your
Account, should lose, or know the Type no more; The Eternal Sáki from that Bowl has pour'd Millions of Bubbles like us, and will pour. |
|
Thou monotypic, thou scarce,
brilliant Souls,
Unparalleled, rare, unknown Flakes of Snow; Reflect on this Idea, O troublesome Truth: Examples by the billions does God know! |
| When You and I behind the Veil
are past,
Oh but the long long while the World shall last Which of our Coming and Departure heeds As much as Ocean of a Pebble-cast. |
|
Oh Child, afraid, cry: "Oh the
Hell!"-- and All
We get, Oh God, will be a Snub, a Pause. With the mad Churning of the Human Race Stones lobbed onto the Waves no Ripples cause. |
| Would you that spangle
of Existence spend
About THE SECRET -- quick about it, Friend! A Hair, they say, divides the False and True -- And upon what, prithee, does Life depend? |
|
Quit seeking,
vital Seconds
drift away;
Faith? Death? put off Disputes, be thou exhorted. An unseen Detail ended a Debate -- Then how is your Place here in Clay supported? |
| A Hair, they say, divides the
False and True;
Yes; and a single Alif were the Clue, Could you but find it, to the Treasure-house, And peradventure to THE MASTER too; |
|
If your Eyes could arrive
at a Rouleau
That wraps the Truth, and Genuine deduce, Ye may one Tittle see, the finest Thread's Avoided Strand, Oh it shall be of use. |
| Whose secret
Presence, through Creation's
veins
Running, Quicksilver-like eludes your Pains: Taking all shapes from Máhto Máhi; and They change and perish all--but He remains; |
|
The Universe's Prime
Cause who produces
All Creatures by the Forms and Phases taking; He'll cruelly vanquish one, another helping - In Kindness to him, great in Riches making. |
| A moment guess'd--then back
behind
the Fold
Immerst of Darkness round the Drama roll'd Which, for the Pastime of Eternity, He does Himself contrive, enact, behold. |
|
Dim Inkling of Forever?
- fathom Him?
Men retrocede, accurs'd, left hobbl'd, blind. "Ha ha! Men's hopeless, e'er tormented Tears." Thus, so detached, He oft toys with Mankind. |
| But if in vain, down on the stubborn
Floor
Of Earth, and up to Heav'n's unopening Door, You gaze To-day, while You are You--how then To-morrow, when You shall be You no more. |
|
One naive
Prayer to God afar intone now?
Thou Hush above - mute, Zero, no Reply? No! thou, My Faithful, Union anon be shown - how? When to our World you bid your last Goodbye. |
| Ah, but my Computations,
People
say,
Have squared the Year to human Compass, eh? If so, by striking from the Calendar Unborn To-morrow and dead Yesterday. |
|
Equations Cubic do my hard Proofs
solve;
But how may Man's poor Path make any Sense? Oh by my "Hard Ordeal Theorem" try Eradicating past and future Tense. |
| 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 is blown for ever dies. |
|
Oh fear
in Hades' Fires
to die, or live
In Faith: "God's Throne still shines - All can arise!" Fact: "When I cease to be there's Nothing left", That wilted, spent Rose, Oh so faint, replies. |
| If I myself upon a looser
Creed
Have loosely strung the Jewel of Good Deed, Let this one Thing for my Atonement plead: That One for Two I never did mis-read. |
|
Oh Loving-God, Devout, Nice, or
On-Time,
If on my String of Life ye sparsely see, Oh jot down Hate-Deleted, Free, and True - Those matter, and so He will plead for me. |
| Strange, is it not? that of the
Myriads who
Before us pass'd the Door of Darkness through Not one returns to tell us of the Road, Which to discover we must travel too. |
|
Adventurers who drift off to the
Stars
Report not to this World, as is the Rule. My Death? no Document suggests a View; For that no Book is authored, there's no School. |
| The Revelations
of Devout and Learn'd
Who rose before us, and as Prophets burn'd, Are all but Stories, which, awoke from Sleep, They told their fellows, and to Sleep return'd. |
|
Arise! put low that Creed that's
all absurd,
Born of profound, enshrined Philosophers. Flee Errors flawed we've known and loved, but loathe To see to these Reality demurs. |
| Why, if the Soul can fling the
Dust aside,
And naked on the Air of Heaven ride, Is't not a shame -- Is't not a shame for him So long in this Clay Suburb to abide? |
|
His sinful Body Man lays down,
as Ache
And Anguish he divorces in the Earth. A Human? let us see, if infinite, Too bad it takes so long to Death from Birth! |
| 'Tis
but a Tent where
takes
his one-day's
Rest
A Sultan to the realm of Death addrest; The Sultan rises, and the dark Ferrásh Strikes, and prepares it for another Guest. |
|
The potent Satrap's
Status?
Fortunate?
Hiers' Habitat, the flurried Legend's Khan? If these, Tartarean Disasters shake, Destroyed Dreams stoke another Ruler's Dawn. |
| I sent
my Soul through
the Invisible,
Some Letter of that After-life to spell: And after many days my Soul return'd And said, "Behold, Myself am Heav'n and Hell." |
|
To find
my
End, Men, Glory
Site or Hell,
I did fly up near unto Heaven's Vault: The Master says Damnation's best for me; He adds: "The Blame for Hell is all thy Fault!" |
| Heav'n
but the Vision of fulfill'd
Desire,
And Hell the Shadow of a Soul on fire, Cast on the Darkness into which Ourselves, So late emerg'd from, shall so soon expire. |
|
Faith's Vista there: Love's golden
Paradise;
Hot Hades' horrid Oven of a Cell - Illusions both, harsh Demons exorcise, Man's fire of Woe snuff out - well, sound the Knell! |
| Oh Thou who burn'st in Heart
for those who burn
In Hell, whose Fires thyself shall feed in turn; How long be crying, "Mercy on them, God!" Why, who art Thou to teach, and He to learn? |
|
"How
can you God?", dost Thou now trembling howl
For th'naughty Wretches thrown in Hades Heat; "Oh why not free?" Inferno horrible! But Flames He'll churn there, On His holy Seat. |
| '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. |
|
Life's basic Facts this Chess
Match
parallel:
Some merely Pawns, yet others Kingly; yea, Both transient indeed, yes, and anon Both vanquished or dethroned and hid away. |
| 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! |
|
Our Life equates to Basketball
- we, trying
For Swooshes, how we hope to sink that Shot! O bonny elegant Slam Dunk? not Life! Then die, Death's Darkness hides Thee - Thanks a lot! |
| 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. |
|
No Mark when put into that Log
of Life,
Will vary, it's inviolate -- is unchanged! A Cry shall not revise thy total Worth, Nor on a Whim will Facts be rearranged. |
| For let Philosopher
and Doctor preach
Of what they will, and what they will not -- each Is but one Link in an eternal Chain That none can slip, nor break, nor over-reach. |
|
The skeptic Thinker hear?
He
and the Pope,
Can in hoar Canon wallow all they will; Oh Power of Brain, no Trance, no fancy Robe, No Chant at Truth arrives - Lo, hidden still! |
| 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. |
|
That Canopy
of Sun with planet
Worlds,
'Neath which I've groveled wretchedly, no End -- Athirst for Liberality from it? No, Like us, no Pow'r allotted it to lend. |
| With Earth's first Clay They did
the Last Man 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. |
|
Life's Terror wand'ring down that
Road ahead,
Those nasty Sins, and all thy secret Acts -- In that first Week when Thee He made of Dirt, That mighty Lord of Heaven knew all those Facts. |
| Yesterday This Day's Madness did
prepare;
To-morrow's Silence, Triumph, or Despair: Drink! for you know not whence you came, nor why: Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where. |
|
When you are lucky, or when mighty
sick,
If wondrous happy, knocked-down, or annoyed, Pour Wine! for Martyrdom or Horror worse Awaits; penned in this System you're destroyed! |
| 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. |
|
He, God who notes all Truths of
human Life,
Of People's Strengths or Failings, in that Gate, Didst planetary Favors throw divine - He'll under them unfold my human Fate. |
| The Vine had struck a Fibre:
which about
If clings my Being--let the Dervish flout; Of my base Metal may be filed a Key, That shall unlock the Door he howls without. |
|
At Heaven's Gate the brutish
Devil froths;
But if I, humble, choose to come, to knock, He's fled! My Flesh will mutate - Oh, refined, I'll by and by that auric Highway walk. |
| 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 |
|
I'll opt to seek Truth - it might
anger me,
Or in her hot Enchantment I'll be taught. O gather Truth? we've looked for it in the Cup, And whilst within the Mosque we've seen it not. |
| What! out of senseless Nothing
to provoke
A conscious Something to resent the Yoke Of unpermitted Pleasure, under Pain Of Everlasting Penalties, if broke! |
|
So!
tease
and offer Men the keen Enticing
To seek for Love, yet punishing, suppress? O this, it looks to be one utter wanting, Cold Formula to reave our Happiness! |
| What! from his
helpless
Creature be repaid
Pure Gold for what he lent us dross-allay'd -- Sue for a Debt we never did contract, And cannot answer -- Oh the sorry Trade! |
|
Proffered
an hundred hard
Laws on a Stone,
Our Prospects be all dashed lest we obey. Converse Deal: with Hurt and Terror that For us is Crime, the Lord can get away! |
| Nay, but for terror of his wrathful
Face,
I swear I will not call Injustice Grace; Not one Good Fellow of the Tavern but Would kick so poor a Coward from the Place. |
|
If Fools
put on a Frown
will we confuse
Good Acts for evil? Wroth I will confute And chase a rude Crook from the Club away; Plain Liar, Jerk, retract, or get the Boot! |
| Oh Thou, who didst with Pitfall
and with Gin
Beset the Road I was to wander in, Thou will not with Predestin'd Evil round Enmesh me, and impute my Fall to Sin? |
|
In twisted Path we
wind
when
in the World;
Oh hidden Traps malign we try to vault. Oh do behold, if in loath Mud Men slip, Is't to the Wine due? or is it Man's Fault? |
| Oh, Thou, who Man of baser
Earth didst make,
And who with Eden didst devise the Snake; For all the Sin wherewith the Face of Man Is blacken'd, Man's Forgiveness give -- and take! |
|
When Heaven did feed a
wicked Satan's Glee
Must I that Hearth in Hades seek to fan? No, from the wretched Shame of evil Works, With Kindness fair I absolve both God and Man. |
KUZA-NAMA (The loquacious pots)
| 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. |
|
And in the eerie uptown Ceramic
Store
The one that sports the Logo "Noble Pot", Sonorous Vases, rational there ye'll find. O what an amazing, opinionated Lot! |
| Shapes of all Sorts
and Sizes, great
and small,
That stood along the floor and by the wall; And some loquacious Vessels were; and some Listen'd perhaps, but never talk'd at all. |
|
Bowls
of all Types, both
Vassals and true Lords,
Slender and fat, some short and others tall; Pots valued as a neat Thing when all glazed; Some quiet, and Some spoke, as I recall. |
| 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?" |
|
Detect two
Types
here at Container
Mart:
One dull appeared (no Tongue), and one Pot, smart, Commenting loudly saith: "Hello Dirt! Lo, Who is the Artist, eh, and who the Art?" |
| 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." |
|
"Oh Men, about
that able, last
unending,
Unknown Creator", says that Count of Clay, "Might He perhaps Tomorrow maim, beat, hammer These Human Victims, the Sons he owns Today?" |
| 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?" |
|
"Dire Rampage? Heav'n annoyed?
Allay that Fear!
Who tenderly," now spake the Duke of Dirt, "New Vases fashioned, shall His Hobby be Reject in Violence? Why harm or hurt?" |
| 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? |
|
Heed the shy Urn that,
leaning awkward there,
Laments: "O No! Why me? for Heaven's sake! Of any and all Hope bereft?" -- It seems A gentle Artist finer Pains could take. |
| "Why," said
another, "Some
there are who tell
Of one who threatens he will toss to Hell The luckless Pots he marred in making -- Pish! He's a Good Fellow, and 'twill all be Well." |
|
"Oh weep, in the sweet Lord who
dwells on High!"
The Marchioness of Mud laments; she spake: "Why, shall He total, fatal Terror loose? I'll get in Hell's Ordeal? We will not bake!" |
| 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-by!" |
|
"And in thy Loving, Sir, go bring
a Keg
Of Brew", hints the old Earl, that Urn all soiled, "Which can me of my Dying Limbo witch -- I may just thrive when by it I am oiled." |
| So
while the Vessels one by one were speaking,
One spied the little Crescent all were seeking: And then they jogg'd each other, "Brother! Brother!" Hark to the Porter's Shoulder-knot a-creaking!" |
|
The Jars, those earthen Kegs,
conversed
a while;
One looked into the Sky, the new Orb spotting, All cheered "Ah, see the Carrier's back-hung Yoke - He'll People greet, the Inn's Brew Orders trotting." |
| 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. |
|
Bathe me with
Wine
when
auld, if I am going
Off to my Final Rest, ere I've descended; Prepared by His hands, Ivy Garlands sewing; Ah, my Wish: by a Weed of Hope attended! |
| 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. |
|
Anon a Scent
of Gin vents by my Grave;
Ah, let a Brewer's fun Smell here arise -- Up! Up! Ah, sent above a lush Turf Bed; Ah, I inhale it - talk about Surprise! |
| Whither resorting from the vernal
Heat
Shall Old Acquaintance Old Acquaintance greet, Under the Branch that leans above the Wall To shed his Blossom over head and feet. |
|
Ah, floral Tavern where that unloved
Man
His Thirst for Coolness doth abate and quench; Ah, mellow Grove, at easelet's be reclining; Care halt, on that dear quiet shaded Bench. |
| 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. |
|
Oh Hedonism Peril
ponder
now:
Loud, vulgar Gods I'd not avoid, and hence My darn old fool Ways my Esteem have harmed. Unworthy Anguish! I've lost Innocence. |
| 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. |
|
We,
burdened by a Weight
of Care despair,
A Soberness intend, no more to trip; Then feindish Independence stirs, and we Are beaten, we cheat and reach: "One more Nip!" |
| And much as Wine has play'd the
Infidel,
And robb'd me of my Robe of Honor -- well, I often wonder what the Vintners buy One half so precious as the Goods they sell. |
|
Fools
do far too much
Ale imbibe, and land
In deathly Sewers -- Ah me! Hell is dry! Persons who host the Garden Vine, how can Ye hope to find new, nobler Stuff to buy? |
| 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! |
|
How
wrong! when Instinct's Hand
a Man at Birth
Clothes with hot, pure, and wistful Passion high, Then Age wreaks all that windy Havoc's Change. Ah, the stern, senseless Thought: the Soul can die! |
| Would but the Desert of the Fountain
yield
One glimpse--if dimly, yet indeed, reveal'd, To which the fainting Traveller might spring, As springs the trampled Herbage of the Field! |
|
Mine Eyes by
glare
from Gold's Allure
go blind,
If in the Earth I fame-distracted grope. When might I find thy Tent, divine deep Well Of splendid Truth that give's us heart-felt Hope? |
| Would
but some winged
Angel ere too late
Arrest the yet unfolded Roll of Fate, And make the stern Recorder otherwise Enregister, or quite obliterate! |
|
Regret
Allottee Quota meliorate?
Could God be liberal where we err, and thus See not? Oh Lord, seek Torment to negate - Rewrite a different Destiny for us! |
| Better, oh better, cancel
from the Scroll
Of Universe one luckless Human Soul, Than drop by drop enlarge the Flood that rolls Hoarser with Anguish as the Ages roll. |
|
Off loveless Persons, bold,
brash,
loud, corrupt,
That go and turn the Earth into a Hell Where echo other fallen Beings' Screams - A rather tremulous, lost, choking Yell. |
| 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! |
|
Stern
Destiny we'll see
-- invite the Muse
To stop these unfair Whims, that tragic Plan! We'd order Terror out, I'd halt Ire too -- Henceforth that sordid Anguish choose to ban. |
| Be of Good Cheer -- the sullen
Month
will die,
And a young Moon requite us by and bye: Look how the Old one meagre, bent, and wan With Age and Fast, is fainting from the Sky! |
|
Be off, thou harsh, dead,
daunting,
quiet Globe;
[Be off, thou harsh, dead, daunting, quiet Globe;] Yea, welcome! Oh bonny, radiant, festal Dawn. Note now Men sing this Anthem: "Rid it, go! Oh woeful, darkly solemn Key be gone!" |
| Ah, Moon
of my Delight
who know'st noWane,
The Moon of Heav'n is rising once again: How oft hereafter rising shall she look Through this same Garden after me -- in vain! |
|
Ah, Night
of no Awak'ning
hastens near,
For now's the Sunset of my Life, I fear. No more aglow with Vodka; no more Singing; Oh, hale Mirth, too? Ah, vanished, lightsome Cheer! |
| And when like her, oh Saki,
you shall pass
Among the Guests star-scatter'd on the Grass, And in your joyous Errand reach the Spot Where I made one -- turn down an empty Glass! |
|
As Comrades gather, hear the Talk,
and Laughing,
And Songs as Sherry they enjoy and sup; Smooth Ales they drink -- O Sorrow? Sure. No Tears! I want them to upend a wineless Cup. |
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