“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.”

“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.”

“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!”

“Why do you sell your wine, merchant?What can they give you in exchange for your wine? Money? … And what can money give you? Power? … Aren't you the owner of the world when you are holding a drink? Is anyone richer than you, who have gold in your cup, Rubies, Pearls, Dreams, and Love? Don't you feel the blood burning in your veins when the cup kisses your lips.”

“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.”

“Drink wine and look at the moonand think of all the civilisationsthe moon has seen passing by.”

“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.”