I used to be reminded at present that 4th December is the anniversary of the loss of life, in 1131, of the Persian astronomer, mathematician and poet Omar Khayyam. That in flip jogged my memory that simply over 12 months in the past I acquired a present of a sumptuously illustrated multi-lingual version of the Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám:
Edward Fitzgerald‘s well-known English translation of those verses may be very acquainted, however it appears there’s a extra of Fitzgerald than Khayyam in most of the poems and the attribution of most of the unique texts to Khayyam is doubtful in any case. No matter you consider this assortment, I feel it’s a bit unlucky that Khayyam will not be extra well known for his scientific work, which you’ll be able to examine in additional element right here.
Anyway, as we strategy the tip of 2022 many people might be remembering folks we have now misplaced through the 12 months so here’s a sequence of three quatrains (XXII-XXIV) with an appropriately elegiac theme:
For some we liked, the loveliest and the most effective
That from his Classic rolling Time hath pressed,
Have drunk their Cup a Spherical or two earlier than,
And one after the other crept silently to relaxation.
And we, that now make merry within the Room
They left, and Summer time attire in new bloom,
Ourselves should we beneath the Sofa of Earth
Descend–ourselves to make a Sofa–for whom?
Ah, take advantage of what we but might spend,
Earlier than we too into the Mud descend;
Mud into Mud, and beneath Mud to lie,
Sans Wine, sans Tune, sans Singer, and–sans Finish!
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