Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám, the Astronomer-poet of PersiaBernard Quaritch, 1859 - 21 pàgines |
Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám, the Astronomer-poet of Persia Omar Khayyam Visualització de fragments - 1912 |
RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM THE A Omar Khayyam,Edward 1809-1883 Fitzgerald,A. Edward (Alfred Edward) 1864 Newton Previsualització no disponible - 2016 |
Frases i termes més freqüents
answer'd ASTRONOMER-POET OF PERSIA Bahrám BERNARD QUARITCH blows Bough Bowl buried Calcutta Review CASTLE STREET Clay common Earth Copy cried D'Herbelot dánad u dánad Dawn didst double that Number Dusk Dust Dynasty Fansy Fate fill the Cup Firdúsi FitzGerald fling flung fugitive Garden Glimpse Grape Greek Háfiz Hasan Hátim Imám India Irám JAMSHYD Kaikobád Khiam Khorassan King leave the Wise LEICESTER SQUARE Lucretius Mahmúd Malik Shah merry Moon Mowaffak murmur'd Musulman mutual pledge Mysticism Naishápur Nightingale Nizám al Mulk old Khayyam Old Omar Omar Khayyám Omar's Oriental Parwin Péhlevi perhaps Persepolis Persian Play'd Poems Poets Potter pupils Quatrain Rubáiyát Rustum Sabbáh Saturn scatter'd Seven Heavens Shah-náma Snow Soul Spring Subhi Súfi Sultan Tavern Tetrastichs THEE Thou Throne To-MORROW Translated UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN Vernal Equinox Vessel Vine Vizier whence whither Wild Ass Wind Wine wing'd Words Worldly Year's Day Yellow Rose
Passatges populars
Pàgina 1 - Ah, make the most of what we yet may 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!
Pàgina xiv - I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled; That every Hyacinth the Garden wears Dropt in her Lap from some once lovely Head.
Pàgina 7 - The Ball no question makes of Ayes and Noes, But Here or There as strikes the Player goes; And He that toss'd you down into the Field, He knows about it all — HE knows — HE knows!
Pàgina xiv - 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.
Pàgina 13 - Hiems' thin and icy crown An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds Is, as in mockery, set.
Pàgina 1 - 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.
Pàgina 7 - With Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man knead, And there of the Last Harvest sow'd the Seed: And the first Morning of Creation wrote What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read.
Pàgina 1 - 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?
Pàgina 11 - 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.
Pàgina 3 - 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.