“I hide my distress, just likethe blessed birds hide themselveswhen they are preparing to die. Wine! Wine, roses, music and yourindifference to my sadness, my loved-one!”

“How much more of the mosque, of prayer and fasting?Better go drunk and begging round the taverns.Khayyam, drink wine, for soon this clay of yoursWill make a cup, bowl, one day a jar.When once you hear the roses are in bloom,Then is the time, my love, to pour the wine;Houris and palaces and Heaven and Hell-These are but fairy-tales, forget them all.”

“Dawn filled the sky with roses. In thecrystal-clear air the last song of the nightingaledies. The smell of the wine weakens. This is the momentwhen fools dream of fame! How softis your hair, my beloved!”

“Drink wine. This is life eternal. This is all that youth will give you. It is the season for wine, roses and drunken friends. Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.”

“Today is the time of my youthI drink wine because it is my solace;Do not blame me, although it is bitter it is pleasant,It is bitter because it is my life.”

“The scent of wine risingfrom my grave will be so strongthat it will intoxicate passers-by.There will be such an atmosphere of serenitythat couples in love will find it impossibleto tear themselves away.”

“Why was I born, when will I die?Who can change the day of his birth,who has a say in the day of his death?Come, my beloved, I want to ask the spiritof the wine to make me forget that weshall never understand.”