Mathematicians From Persia

"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."

"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."

"And this I know: whether the one True Light Kindle to Love, or Wrath-consume me quite, One Flash of It within the Tavern caught Better than in the Temple lost outright."

"What! out of senseless Nothing to provoke A conscious Something to resent the yoke Of unpermitted Pleasure, under pain Of Everlasting Penalties, if broke!"

"What! from his helpless Creature be repaid Pure Gold for what he lent him dross-allay'd — Sue for a Debt he never did contract, And cannot answer — Oh, the sorry trade!"

"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!"

"And ev'n with Paradise devise the Snake."

"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?""

"Said one — "Folks of a surly Tapster tell, "And daub his Visage with the Smoke of Hell; "They talk of some strict Testing of us—Pish! "He's a Good Fellow, and 'twill all be well.""

"Why," said another, "Some there are who tell Of one who threatens he will toss to Hell The luckless Pots he marr'd in making--Pish! "He's a Good Fellow, and 'twill all be well."

"And much as Wine has play'd the Infidel, And robb'd me of my Robe of Honour — well, I often wonder what the Vintners buy One half so precious as the Goods they sell."

"I wonder often what the Vintners buy One half so precious as the stuff they sell."

"One half so precious as the stuff they sell."

"Oh, Thou who Man of baser Earth didst make, And ev'n with Paradise devise the Snake: For all the Sin wherewith the Face of Man Is blacken'd — Man's forgiveness give — and take!"

"As under cover of departing Day Slunk hunger-stricken Ramazan away, Once more within the Potter's house alone I stood, surrounded by the Shapes of Clay."

"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."

"Said one among them — "Surely not in vain My substance of the common Earth was ta'en And to this Figure moulded, to be broke, Or trampled back to shapeless Earth again.""

"Then said a Second — "Ne'er a peevish Boy Would break the Bowl from which he drank in joy, And He that with his hand the Vessel made Will surely not in after Wrath destroy.""

"After a momentary silence spake Some Vessel of a more ungainly Make; "They sneer at me for leaning all awry: What! did the Hand then of the Potter shake?""

"Well," Murmur'd one, "Let whoso make or buy, My Clay with long Oblivion is gone dry: But fill me with the old familiar juice, Methinks I might recover by and by."

"Ah, with the Grape my fading Life provide, And wash the Body whence the Life has died, And lay me, shrouded in the living Leaf, By some not unfrequented Garden-side."

"That ev'n my buried Ashes such a snare Of Vintage shall fling up into the Air As not a True-believer passing by But shall be overtaken unaware."

"Indeed the Idols I have loved so long Have done my credit in this World much wrong: Have drown'd my Glory in a shallow Cup And sold my Reputation for a Song."

"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."

"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!"

"Yet Ah, that Spring should vanish with the Rose!"

"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!"

"Ah Love! could you and I with Him conspire."

"Ah, Moon of my Delight who know'st no wane, The Moon of Heav'n is rising once again: How oft hereafter rising shall she look Through this same Garden after me — in vain!"

"Yon rising Moon that looks for us again — How oft hereafter will she wax and wane; How oft hereafter rising look for us Through this same Garden — and for one in vain!"

"Would but some wing'ed Angel ere too late Arrest the yet unfolded Roll of Fate, And make the stern Recorder otherwise Enregister, or quite obliterate!"

"By the help of God and with His precious assistance, I say that Algebra is a scientific art. The objects with which it deals are absolute numbers and measurable quantities which, though themselves unknown, are related to "things" which are known, whereby the determination of the unknown quantities is possible. Such a thing is either a quantity or a unique relation, which is only determined by careful examination. What one searches for in the algebraic art are the relations which lead from the known to the unknown, to discover which is the object of Algebra as stated above. The perfection of this art consists in knowledge of the scientific method by which one determines numerical and geometric unknowns."

"And when like her, oh, Saki, you shall pass."

"Tamám Shud. / It is finished."

"A book, a woman, and a flask of wine: The three make heaven for me; it may be thine   Is some sour place of singing cold and bare — But then, I never said thy heaven was mine."

"But here are wine and beautiful young girls, Be wise and hide your Sorrows in their curls,  Dive as you will in life's mysterious sea, You shall not bring us any better pearls."

"Allah, perchance, the secret word might spell; If Allah be, He keeps His secret well;  What He hath hidden, who shall hope to find? Shall God His secret to a maggot tell?"

"The Koran! well, come put me to the test— Lovely old book in hideous error drest—  Believe me, I can quote the Koran too, The unbeliever knows his Koran best. And do you think that unto such as you, A maggot-minded, starved, fanatic crew,  God gave the secret, and denied it me?— Well, well, what matters it! believe that too."

"Down rain the tears from skies enwrapt in gloom Without this wine the tulips could not bloom. As now these flowerets yield delight to me So shall my dust yield flowers, God knows for whom."

"Man is a cup, his soul the wine therein, Flesh is a pipe, spirit the voice therein, O Khayyam have you fathomed what man is? A magic lantern with a light therein."

"Whilom, ere youth’s conceit had waned, me thought Answers to all life’s problems I had wrought; But now, grown old and wise, too late I see My life is spent, and all my lore is nought."

"Nor you nor I can read the etern decree To that enigma we can find no key They talk of you and me behind the veil But if the veil be lifted, where are we?"

"He brought me hither to my great surprise From life I gather but a dark surmise; I go perforce. Why come? Why live? Why go? I ask these questions, but find no replies."

"We come and go, but for the gain, where is it? And spin life’s woof, but for the warp, where is it? And many a righteous man has burned to dust In heaven’s blue rondure, but their smoke where is it?"

"Man cannot change what pen hath writ of yore, Diet of sorrow breedeth heart-pang sore; Spend thy whole life in shedding tears of blood, Thou can’st not add one tear-drop to thy store."

"These fools by dint of ignorance most crass, Think they in wisdom all mankind surpass; And glibly do they damn as infidel Each one who is not, like themselves, an ass."

"Tn taverns better far commune with Thee Than pray in mosques and fail Thy face to see! O first and last of all thy creatures Thou, 'Tis thine to burn and thine to cherish me."

"Is a friend faithless? Spurn him as a foe, But on trustworthy foes respect bestow, Hold healing poison for an antidote, And baneful sweets for deadly eisel know."

"Open the door! O warder best and purest, And guide the way, O thou, of guides the surest! Directors born of men shall not direct me, Their counsel comes to nought, but thou endurest."

"Bulbuls doting on roses oft complain How froward breezes rend their veils in twain Sit we beneath this rose which many a time Has sprung from earth and dropped to earth again."