The Flower That Once Has Blown Forever

Old Khayyám, Say You, Is A Debauchee;if Only You Were Half So Good As He!he Sins No Sins But Gentle Drunkenness,great-hearted Mirth, And Kind Adultery.but Yours The Cold Heart, And The Murderous Tongue,the Wintry Soul That Hates To Hear A Song,the Close-shut Fist, The Mean And Measuring Eye,and All The Little Poisoned Ways Of Wrong.

Heaven Has Not Learned Of My Arrival, And My Departure Will Not In The Least Diminish It Beauty And Grandeur. I Will Sleep Underground, For Us Ephemeral Mortals, The Only Eternity Is The Moment And Drinking To The Moment Is Better Than Weeping For It.

There Was A Door To Which I Found No Key: There Was The Veil Through Which I Might Not See.

This Clay, So Strong Of Heart, Of Sense So Fine,surely Such Clay Is More Than Half Divine--'tis Only Fools Speak Evil Of The Clay,the Very Stars Are Made Of Clay Like Mine.

When I Want To Understand What Is Happening Today Or Try To Decide What Will Happen Tomorrow, I Look Back.