Omar Khayyam
Omar Khayyam (mathematicus en astronoom, 1048 - 1123) is beroemd geworden door de Rubaiyat, een verzameling van 1200 tot 2000 gedichten, geschreven in het Perzisch.
Veel van deze gedichten zijn waarschijnlijk geschreven door anderen maar zijn bewaard gebleven omdat Khayyam ze optekende. Hijzelf schreef er ongeveer een duizendtal. De verzen zijn enigszins somber van toon en raken aan leven, dood en de zinloosheid van het bestaan.
De gedichten zijn in het westen bekend geworden door diverse vertalingen, waaronder die van Edward Fitzgerald (1809 -1883). Fitzgerald vertaalde, in diverse variaties, een honderdtal verzen. Hieronder een selectie.
II
Dreaming when Dawn's Left Hand was in the Sky,
I heard a Voice within the Tavern cry,
'Awake my Little ones, and fi11 the Cup
Before Life's Liquor in its Cup be dry.'
III
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.
VII
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.
IX
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.
XI
Here with a Laaf 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.
XII
'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!
XV
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.
XXVIII
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.'
XXXVIII
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!
XXXIX
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.
LII
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
LXVII
Ah, with the Grape my fading Life provide,
And wash my Body whence the Life has died,
And in a Winding-sheet of Vine-leaf wrapt,
So bury me by some sweet Garden side.
Uit: Omar Khayyam, Rubaiyat, transl. by E. Fitzgerald, Ad Donker, Craighall SA 1984.