The Rubaiyat - Omar Khayyam
Though made famous in his own time for his studies as a mathematician and astronomer, Omar Khayyam's name is now well-known for his Rubaiyat, a collection of evocative and passionate verses introduced to Victorian England by Edward Fitzgerald. The Rubaiyat is a collection of ruba'i ("foursome" in Arabic), two lined stanzas of verse, each divided into two hemistiches. The first, second and fourth line of each stanza must rhyme in this form. The form was popularized in 11th and 12th century Persia, mostly as a reaction against the lengthy, single-rhymed, narrative verse forms that dominated Arabic poetry. The ruba'i were short and witty, delivering a sharp blow in the last line. I read the contemporary translation by Peter Avery and John Heath-Stubbs, supposedly the most literal translation possible. This translation ignored many of the poetic devices in the original Rubaiyat, but unlike Fitzgerald's popular translation, it seemed to more honestly express Khayyam's intent.
The Rubaiyat begins by bemoaning the pointlessness of a life that ends suddenly, to the complete disconcern of the world. The narrator has become disillusioned, wondering why he was created, wishing he hadn't been given the opportunity to feel pain and know disappointment and confusion:
This questioning of purpose on earth continues for many stanzas, the narrator focusing on the wheel of heaven, turning a fate of rising and falling for mankind. He mentions the image of a broken earthenware pot often, judging its fragility to be like his own--reminding his listeners that they, like the pot, were made of clay and will return to lifeless clay. With this image, he draws the audience towards the idea that, as the eathenware pot is a vessel for wine, so the human body is a vessel for the spirit of enjoyment, that pleasure is the purpose to human existence:
Khayyam seems to feel a certain disregard for the religion of the Koran. He states in his verse that man should not sacrifice his happiness on earth, waiting in pure discontent for the glory of deserved comfort in the afterlife. He tells his audience that "Whoever made the world could not care less about the pair of moustaches you are and the beard I am." He was a skeptic, and could not bear men martyring their pleasure to an ascetic lifestyle sanctioned by religion.
The picture used above was taken from The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, translated by Avery and Heath-Stubbs. It is the Fete Champetre, kept at Riza, painted during the Safavid period in the Izfahan style (c. 1610-15). For the Wikipedia biography on Omar Khayyam, link here; an entry for the Rubaiyat can be found here.
The Rubaiyat begins by bemoaning the pointlessness of a life that ends suddenly, to the complete disconcern of the world. The narrator has become disillusioned, wondering why he was created, wishing he hadn't been given the opportunity to feel pain and know disappointment and confusion:
"He began my creation with constraint,
By giving me life he added only confusion;
We depart reluctantly still not knowing
the aim of birth, existence, departure."
This questioning of purpose on earth continues for many stanzas, the narrator focusing on the wheel of heaven, turning a fate of rising and falling for mankind. He mentions the image of a broken earthenware pot often, judging its fragility to be like his own--reminding his listeners that they, like the pot, were made of clay and will return to lifeless clay. With this image, he draws the audience towards the idea that, as the eathenware pot is a vessel for wine, so the human body is a vessel for the spirit of enjoyment, that pleasure is the purpose to human existence:
"Do not expect much of the world and live contented,
Ignore the good and ill that time brings;
Take wine in your hand and a sweet girl's tresses
For they quickly go and these few days will not last."
Khayyam seems to feel a certain disregard for the religion of the Koran. He states in his verse that man should not sacrifice his happiness on earth, waiting in pure discontent for the glory of deserved comfort in the afterlife. He tells his audience that "Whoever made the world could not care less about the pair of moustaches you are and the beard I am." He was a skeptic, and could not bear men martyring their pleasure to an ascetic lifestyle sanctioned by religion.
The picture used above was taken from The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, translated by Avery and Heath-Stubbs. It is the Fete Champetre, kept at Riza, painted during the Safavid period in the Izfahan style (c. 1610-15). For the Wikipedia biography on Omar Khayyam, link here; an entry for the Rubaiyat can be found here.
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