Posts Tagged ‘quatrain’
Remote control it is not, press I well
Surfing channels of reason, my eyes fail-
If Nature stayed true to will and please
My senses-Ah it would be worth my while.
In this age of instant gratification can Omar Khayyam be relevant to us? I believe the quatrain form could be used to convey our spiritual confusion or love for Immensities that comes in byte-size, only we call it passing time. Nature changes: seasons after seasons on the treadmill of Time, is the riddle that was poets of every age and clime had to come to terms with.
Who is using the remote control, by the way?
It is somewhat like the theatre of the Absurd. One who makes Nature keep renewing the face of the earth affects us as well. Lacking in time we require certainties and only certainty that we end up with is what one might call as Chance.
Thanks to our attention-deficit we also keep checking out what is all available whenever we want some entertainment. Instead we are inundated with bits and snatches of man’s art, news of the mart that would not even feed the appetite of a louse. Who is using the remote control and what for?
“The Place where the mighty one once abode
Of Pomp and glory devoid remains ruin’d;
All I could hear there was the cry of dove,
‘Coo! where art thou!’, on and on she moaned.”
(text and illustration-benny thomas)
Posted in poetry, tagged Benny Thomas, Edward Fitzgerald, medieval poetry, mystic, oem, Omar Khayyam, Persian poetry, philosophy, quatrain, The Rubaiyat, translation on July 2, 2011 | Leave a Comment »
Here below I am giving two versions of the Edward Fitzgerald translation.
First the original followed wih a free translation and the last in traditional rhyme pattern AABA.
#40 quartrain( Fifth ed.)
As then the Tulip for her morning sup
Of Heav’nly vintage from the soil looks up,
Do you devoutly do the like,till Heav’n
To Earth invert you-like an empty cup.
Even as the rose drinks deep mists of vintage
Celestial to raise drooping spirit upwards;
Likewise attend to wine from grapes pressed
Till from Heaven your mouth is stopped.
Morning mists tend a tulip to buck up
From her sleep as wine keeps our spirits up.
Think that death will let us keep ours intact?
All that we held on is for worms to sup.
Omar Khayyam’s Rubáiyát
Arise! For morning has knocked the night-
Out like nine pins and out of sight, it’s plain.
And Lo! Each one is out to make the most,
The Game of Life starts anew: place your bets!
A Parody on the famous lines beginning with ‘Here with a Loaf of bread….
Here with a kindle O, beneath the Sun
A word or two from my love exchanged-
She has her Kindle too; let Khayyam
Find some other meter and rhyme.