The Cup of Divine Love by Muhammad Naveed Ahmed (Emmenay) (read dune txt) 📕

RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM AND MY RESPONSES

(Omar Khayyam's rubaiyats are in translated form)

Omar Khayyam 1:
Awake! For morning in the bowl of night,
Has flung the stone that puts the stars to flight,
And lo! The Hunter of the East has caught,
The sultan's turret in a noose of light.

Emmenay:1
Awake, all night, I was on my own,
Seeking my Beloved of great renown,
Everywhere, I searched the Milky Way,
Till the Hunter of the East rose and shone.


Omar Khayyam 2:
The worldly hope that men set their hearts upon,
Turns into ashes or anon,
Like a candle on the desert's dusty face,
Lighting for an hour or two, is gone.


Emmenay 2:
No worldly hopes inside this heart now hover,
Materialism flickers inside this spiritual bower,
There's no desire left but to see the Beloved --
The longing for the Gardener -- by a withering flower.


Omar Khayyam 3:
There was a door to which I found no key,
There was a veil past which I could not see,
Some talk awhile of me and thee there seemed,
And then, no more of me and thee.

Emmenay 3:
There were many doors that were opened to me,
I was taken to realms where none else could be,
Even Saturn, the "planet of fate" did prostrate,
As my Eternal Beloved, towards the Truth, led me.

Omar Khayyam 4:
The moving finger writes and having writ,
Moves on. Nor all thy piety nor wit,
Shall lure it to cancel half a line,
Nor do all thy tears wash out a word of it.

Emmenay 4:
The moving finger held me as I floated in space,
Showing me the futility of this temporary place,
'Don't waste your time or shed tears here',
I was told: "Seek naught but thy Beloved's grace."


Omar Khayyam 5:
They say the Lion and the Lizard keep
The Courts where Jamshyd gloried and drank deep:
And Bahram, that great Hunter--the Wild Ass
Stamps o'er his Head, and he lies fast asleep.


Emmenay 5:
Why worry about what was and what is said,
We live and we die and the earth is the bed,
Where our mortal remains are buried, forgotten,
What matters is where the spirit has fled.


Omar Khayyam 6:
Come, fill the Cup, and in the fire of Spring
The winter garment of repentance fling:
The bird of time has but a little way
To fly--and Lo! the bird is on the wing.

Emmenay 6:
The blood cup of life gets filled drop by drop,
And then it is absorbed slowly, drop by drop,
All the four seasons blend to give it its taste,
The time bird may fly, my journey doesn't stop.

Omar Khayyam 7:
And if the wine you drink, the lip you press,
End in the nothing all things end in - Yes -
Then fancy while thou art, thou art but what
Thou shalt be -- Nothing -- thou shalt not be less.


Emmenay 7:
My drink is wholesome, the lip - it is soft,
In the quest of my beloved my self may be lost,
Why fancy who I am? Why fear what I will be,
It is my Beloved that matters whatever be the cost.


Omar Khayyam 8:
Ah! my Beloved, fill the cup that clears
To-day of past regrets and future fears
Tomorrow? -- Why, tomorrow I may be
Myself with yesterday's Seven thousand years.


Emmenay 8:
O my Beloved what cause I have for tears,
When You are mine - no regrets, no fears,
In You I find the answer to who I am,
With You every moment is like thousands of years.


Omar Khayyam 9:
Myself when young did eagerly frequent
Doctor and saint, and heard great argument
About it and about: but evermore
Came out by the same door as in I went.


Emmenay 9:
I too wasted time with the scholar and the saint,
Seeking much I found nothing and at last I did faint,
Then the door of Divine Love was unlocked for me,
The path to my Beloved led and onward I went.

Omar Khayyam 10:
Dreaming when dawn's left hand was in the sky
I heard a Voice within the tavern cry,
"Awake, my little ones, and fill the Cup
Before life's Liquor in its cup be dry."


Emmenay 10:
Dreaming I was not when dawn drew nigh,
And even though to the tavern there went a sigh,
I was drinking the Cup blessed by my Beloved,
And I knew my Divine Cup - it would never be dry.


Omar Khayyam 11:
Some for the glories of this world and some,
Sigh for the great paradise to come,
Ah, take the cash and let the credit go,
Nor heed the rumble of a distant drum.


Emmenay 11:
I care not for this world's glories like some,
Nor do I long what waits as the time here is done,
My Beloved has shown me the truth of all things,
So I say let my Beloved's will be done.


Omar Khayyam 12:
With the wise did I wisdom's seed sow,
And with my own hand sought to make it grow,
And this was all the harvest that I reaped:
I came like water, like wind I go.


Emmenay 12:
The wise, I found out, did not really know,
How wisdom in the heart and mind does grow,
So I chose not to labour over a fruitless toil,
And drank deep at the Fountain of Divine Love.


Omar Khayyam 13:
Indeed, the idols I have loved so long
Have done my credit in men's eye much wrong:
Have drowned my honour in a shallow cup,
And sold my reputation for a song.


Emmenay 13:
I too saw idols, lovely, beautiful to belong,
Somehow I was shown the right from the wrong,
My Beloved saved me and I drank the Divine Drink,
Forever dedicated to my Beloved is my song.


Omar Khayyam 14:
And as the cock crew, those who stood before,
The tavern shouted - Open then the door;
You know how little while we have to stay,
And, once departed, may return no more.


Emmenay 14:
When lost I am in the Beauty of Divine Love,
How can I bother about those at the door - Anyhow,
My advice to those who worry and fret about staying -
Pay heed! To the life-giving call of Divine Love.


Omar Khayyam 15:
Now the New Year reviving old desires,
The thoughtful soul to solitude retires,
Where the WHITE HAND OF MOSES on the Bough,
Puts out, and Jesus from the Ground suspires.


Emmenay 15:
The New Year dawns for those with old desires,
My thirsting soul always to my Beloved retires,
The WHITE HAND OF MOSES and the Bough,
And Jesus Christ too, is there, where my self respires.


Omar Khayyam 16:
But come with old Khayyam, and leave the lot
Of Kaikobad and Kaikhosru forgot:
Let Rustum lay about him as he will,
Or Hatim Tai cry supper - heed them not.


Emmenay 16:
Once I loved to be with Khayyam in my thoughts,
But now the realm has changed and I have forgot,
Khayyam, Rustum, Kaikobad, Hatim Tai,
It is only my Beloved that my heart has now got.


Omar Khayyam 17:
A book of verses underneath the bough,
A jug of wine, a loaf of bread and thou,
Beside me singing in the wilderness,
O wilderness were Paradise enow...


Emmenay 17:
A book of verses and underneath the bough,
Where shines my Beloved's Gaze from around and above,
With a drink from the Cup of Divinity and a song,
That makes Time stand still, forever, in love.


Omar Khayyam 18:
Some for the glories of this world and some,
Sigh for the great paradise to come,
Ah, take the cash and let the credit go,
Nor heed the rumble of a distant drum.


Emmenay 18:
I care not for this world's glories like some,
Nor do I long what waits as the time here is done,
My Beloved has shown me the truth of all things,
So I say let my Beloved's will be done.


Omar Khayyam 19:
With the wise did I wisdom's seed sow,
And with my own hand sought to make it grow,
And this was all the harvest that I reaped:
I came like water, like wind I go.


Emmenay 19:
The wise, I found out, did not really know,
How wisdom in the heart and mind does grow,
So I chose not to labour over a fruitless toil,
And drank deep at the Fountain of Divine Love.


Omar Khayyam 20:
Ah, that Spring should vanish with the rose,
That youth's sweet scented manuscript should close,
The nightingale that in the branches sang,
Wither flown and whence, who knows!


Emmenay 20:
Once I too lamented the loss of spring and the rose,
Wondering why youth's sweet scented manuscript should close,
Pining for the nightingale that in the branches sang,
But I forgot all, when beckoned to my Beloved's House.
*********THE END**********

Dear reader, if you have enjoyed reading my poetry, then do email me at [email protected]
Whatever suggestions you may have for improving this book may also be emailed to me.
I value your feedback and comments.
-- Muhammad Naveed Ahmed (Emmenay).

Text: ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. NO PART OF THIS BOOK MAY BE REPRODUCED, TRANSLATED OR COPIED IN ANY FORM INCLUDING PRINT AND ELECTRONIC E-VERSIONS AND COMPUTER TECHNOLOGY OR IN AUDIO/VIDEO FORMAT, WITHOUT THE PRIOR, SIGNED APPROVAL OF THE AUTHOR MUHAMMAD NAVEED AHMED (EMMENAY). (Copyright 2008-2009)
Publication Date: 09-24-2008

All Rights Reserved

Dedication:
Dedicated to my late father, Muzaffar Ahmed, who introduced me to Omar Khayyam and his life and works way back in 1972.