I've cheated a bit here, for this is a repeat of a previous post. However, since this is the last post I will make on the Rubaiyat (as far as I know right now), I thought it appropriate. These are the last quatrains for the First, Second, and Fifth Editions.
First Edition: Quatrain LXXV
And when Thyself with shining Foot shall pass
Among the Guests Star-scatter'd on the Grass,
And in thy joyous Errand reach the Spot
Where I made one--turn down an empty Glass!
TAMAM SHUD
Second Edition: Quatrain CX
And when Yourself with shining Foot shall pass
Among the Guests Star-scatter'd on the Grass,
And in your joyous Errand reach the Spot
Where I made One--turn down an empty Glass!
TAMAM
Fifth Edition: Quatrain CI
And when like her, oh, Saki, you shall pass
Among the Guests Star-scatter'd on the Grass,
And in your joyous Errand reach the Spot
Where I made One--turn down an empty Glass!
TAMAM
Fitzgerald made only minor changes over the five editions, and most of
them occurred in the first line. In the first edition we see "Thyself"
which becomes the less poetic "Yourself" in the second edition. Also,
"shining foot" is changed to "silver Foot" in the second edition.
"Silver" is much more specific in that it denotes a white foot more
clearly than does "shining."
In the fifth edition, we find the most drastic change to the first
line. The references to her personal appearance disappear and she is
named Saki. In addition, we find a reference--"like her"-- to the
previous quatrain where the Moon is depicted as shining down on those in
the garden. The tie to the previous quatrain is much stronger in this
edition than in the earlier versions in which the quatrain began with
"And," which also ties this quatrain to previous one. In other words,
he substitutes a direct reference for a conjunction.
The second, third, and fourth lines of the various editions are
identical except for a change that occurs in the second edition, when
"thy" becomes "your" to match a similar change in the first line.
The sense of the quatrain seems quite clear--remember me with an empty
glass, which refers back to earlier quatrains concerning the scene in
the pottery shop in which a pot suggests that filling it with wine might
restore it. However, there seems to be no possibility of that
happening here, for death is the final emptying of the glass.
I started this project on September 26, 2008 and
never realized that it would last for almost nine years. I have now posted entries on all seventy-five quatrains in the First Edition and related quatrains in the Second and Fifth Editions. I have also posted on all quatrains that were added by Edward FitzGerald in the Second Edition. All quatrains in the Fifth Edition are identical to or are modified versions of quatrains in the First and Second Editions. As far as I can tell, no new quatrains were added in the Third or Fourth Editions, or if any were, FitzGerald dropped them when the Fifth Edition came out.
This, therefore, will be the last posting I will make on Edward FitzGerald's version of the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. It is with mixed feelings that I say this.
Someone, I think, once said that endings were really opportunities for new beginnings.
NOTE:
"The Arabic word sāqī ساقی
(also written as saqi or
saki) literally means wine-server or wine-pourer and is frequently used
in Persian poetry to describe the glorious Server who continually pours
out the wine everlasting to all of mankind, while implying that only a
completely empty bowl is truly ready to be filled with such a fine wine.
For the Sufi, the greatest task of life is to become empty enough,
selfless enough, to be a suitable receptacle for the wine which the Sāqī
pours.
In some cases, the word sāqī may be used as a reference to a
specific spiritual teacher, but in the grand scheme of things, a
spiritual teacher is merely a worldly symbol for the presence of the
Beloved, the One and Only One."
Showing posts with label FITZGERALD Edward. Show all posts
Showing posts with label FITZGERALD Edward. Show all posts
Saturday, July 1, 2017
Friday, June 30, 2017
The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam: Second Editiion, Quatrain CVII
This is the second of two linked quatrains, the previous being Quatrain CVI, with a similar theme.
Second Edition: Quatrain CVII
Better, oh, better, cancel from the Scroll
Of Universe one luckless Human Soul,
Than drop by drop enlarge the Flood that rolls
Hoarser with Anguish as the Ages Roll.
This quatrain does not appear in the Fifth Edition. Perhaps, since its theme is the same as in the previous quatrain, FitzGerald decided it was repetitive and therefore unnecessary, and consequently dropped it by the time the Fifth Edition was published.
The theme is the same as in Quatrain CVI, and it is not found in the First Edition. This idea, that it would be better that humans were not created, does not appear in the First Edition as best as I can remember, nor is there any reference to the pain and anguish of existence. The First Edition was published in 1859 while the Second Edition appeared in 1868, nine years later. Not knowing what happened to Edward FitzGerald in those nine years, I can't speculate whether the addition of this quatrain, filled with despair and pain, has any personal significance for him or just may be a translation of a quatrain that he didn't include in the First Edition and has no personal meaning for him.
Second Edition: Quatrain CVII
Better, oh, better, cancel from the Scroll
Of Universe one luckless Human Soul,
Than drop by drop enlarge the Flood that rolls
Hoarser with Anguish as the Ages Roll.
This quatrain does not appear in the Fifth Edition. Perhaps, since its theme is the same as in the previous quatrain, FitzGerald decided it was repetitive and therefore unnecessary, and consequently dropped it by the time the Fifth Edition was published.
The theme is the same as in Quatrain CVI, and it is not found in the First Edition. This idea, that it would be better that humans were not created, does not appear in the First Edition as best as I can remember, nor is there any reference to the pain and anguish of existence. The First Edition was published in 1859 while the Second Edition appeared in 1868, nine years later. Not knowing what happened to Edward FitzGerald in those nine years, I can't speculate whether the addition of this quatrain, filled with despair and pain, has any personal significance for him or just may be a translation of a quatrain that he didn't include in the First Edition and has no personal meaning for him.
Wednesday, June 21, 2017
The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam: Second Edition, Quatrain CVI
This is the first of several linked quatrains which express the same theme: the pain of human existence.
Second Edition: Quatrain CVI
Oh, if the World were but to recreate,
That we might catch ere closed the Book of Fate,
And make The Writer on a fairer leaf
Inscribe our names, or quite obliterate!
Fifth Edition: Quatrain XCVIII
Would but some winged Angel ere too late
Arrest the yet unfolded Roll of Fate,
And make the stern Recorder otherwise
Enregister, or quite obliterate!
FitzGerald has made considerable changes to this quatrain by the Fifth Edition. The theme seems to be the same, though. But, there is a subtle difference which I didn't catch the first time I read them. The Second Edition was published in 1868, about nine years after the First Edition. The Fifth came out in 1889, so there was a twenty year gap between the Second and the Fifth Editions.
The subtle difference may simply be an accidental result of the changes in wording (over-reading again on my part), or it may reflect a change in FitzGerald's own world view that took place over that twenty year gap. In the Second Edition, it seems as though Creation is fixed. Note that the World has to "recreate" in order for us to catch the Book of Fate before it is "closed." I understand that to mean Creation or Fate is now fixed and to make any changes we would have to begin again before any changes could be made.
It appears to be a different situation, though, in the Fifth Edition. He wishes that "some winged Angel ere too late/ Arrest the yet unfolded Roll of Fate," This suggests to me that Fate is not yet fixed and changes could be made to "yet unfolded Roll of Fate." The Roll is not yet folded, and therefore different entries could be made. This seems to me to be a movement away from predestination. Based on some earlier quatrains this is a change since some quatrains did suggest that this is a predestined world, and we had little to say about our fate.
Another interesting change occurs in the third line. In the Second Edition, it is The Writer who will Inscribe our names, or quite obliterate! The reference is to an objective or neutral scribe, while in the Fifth Edition, it is a stern Recorder who records our fate. In the twenty years between the two editions, the depiction of the one who records our fate has gone from neutral to stern.
Of the various themes in the Rubaiyat, this is probably the most despairing. FitzGerald proposes two options: one would be to have "The Writer on a fairer leaf/ Inscribe our names, and if that is not possible then the Writer should quite obliterate our names from the Roll. In other words, it would be better if we weren't born. If the " stern Recorder" doesn't change the Roll of Fate, then again the poet/narrator would prefer to be quite obliterate. In other words, with life being the way it is, it would be better not to have been born at all.
One question I do have: the responsibility of the Writer and the Recorder. Do they decide our Fates or do they just follow orders and record them as dictated to them by another higher power? I can't tell from the quatrains for they do not give a clue, or at least none that I can find.
Second Edition: Quatrain CVI
Oh, if the World were but to recreate,
That we might catch ere closed the Book of Fate,
And make The Writer on a fairer leaf
Inscribe our names, or quite obliterate!
Fifth Edition: Quatrain XCVIII
Would but some winged Angel ere too late
Arrest the yet unfolded Roll of Fate,
And make the stern Recorder otherwise
Enregister, or quite obliterate!
FitzGerald has made considerable changes to this quatrain by the Fifth Edition. The theme seems to be the same, though. But, there is a subtle difference which I didn't catch the first time I read them. The Second Edition was published in 1868, about nine years after the First Edition. The Fifth came out in 1889, so there was a twenty year gap between the Second and the Fifth Editions.
The subtle difference may simply be an accidental result of the changes in wording (over-reading again on my part), or it may reflect a change in FitzGerald's own world view that took place over that twenty year gap. In the Second Edition, it seems as though Creation is fixed. Note that the World has to "recreate" in order for us to catch the Book of Fate before it is "closed." I understand that to mean Creation or Fate is now fixed and to make any changes we would have to begin again before any changes could be made.
It appears to be a different situation, though, in the Fifth Edition. He wishes that "some winged Angel ere too late/ Arrest the yet unfolded Roll of Fate," This suggests to me that Fate is not yet fixed and changes could be made to "yet unfolded Roll of Fate." The Roll is not yet folded, and therefore different entries could be made. This seems to me to be a movement away from predestination. Based on some earlier quatrains this is a change since some quatrains did suggest that this is a predestined world, and we had little to say about our fate.
Another interesting change occurs in the third line. In the Second Edition, it is The Writer who will Inscribe our names, or quite obliterate! The reference is to an objective or neutral scribe, while in the Fifth Edition, it is a stern Recorder who records our fate. In the twenty years between the two editions, the depiction of the one who records our fate has gone from neutral to stern.
Of the various themes in the Rubaiyat, this is probably the most despairing. FitzGerald proposes two options: one would be to have "The Writer on a fairer leaf/ Inscribe our names, and if that is not possible then the Writer should quite obliterate our names from the Roll. In other words, it would be better if we weren't born. If the " stern Recorder" doesn't change the Roll of Fate, then again the poet/narrator would prefer to be quite obliterate. In other words, with life being the way it is, it would be better not to have been born at all.
One question I do have: the responsibility of the Writer and the Recorder. Do they decide our Fates or do they just follow orders and record them as dictated to them by another higher power? I can't tell from the quatrains for they do not give a clue, or at least none that I can find.
Friday, June 2, 2017
The Rubaiyat: Second Edition, Quatrain CV
Second Edition: Quatrain CV
Would but the Desert of the Fountain yield
One glimpse --if dimly, yet indeed reveal'd,
Toward which the fainting Traveller might spring,
As springs the trampled herbage of the field!
Fifth Edition: Quatrain XCVII
Would but the Desert of the Fountain yield
One glimpse --if dimly, yet indeed, reveal'd,
To which the fainting Traveller might spring,
As springs the trampled herbage of the field!
FitzGerald made only minimal changes to this quatrain over the next three editions. He added a comma in the fifth edition after "indeed," but that might have simply been adding one that had been left out in the second edition. The other change was the substitution of "To" for "Toward" in the third line. I think "To" makes it more specific as "Toward" suggests only moving in that direction, but not necessarily that being the destination.
Again, this quatrain brings up the theme that we don't know where we are going and laments that we can't even get a glimpse. Robert Frost expresses the same idea in his poem "For Once, Then, Something."
For Once, Then, Something
Others taunt me with having knelt at well-curbs
Always wrong to the light, so never seeing
Deeper down in the well than where the water
Gives me back in a shining surface picture
Me myself in the summer heaven, godlike,
Looking out of a wreath of fern and cloud puffs.
Once, when trying with chin against a well-curb
I discerned, as I thought, beyond the picture,
Through the picture, a something white, uncertain,
Something more of the depths--and then I lost it.
Water came to rebuke the too clear water.
One drop fell from a fern, and lo, a ripple
Shook whatever it was lay there at bottom,
Blurred it, blotted it out. What was that whiteness?
Truth? A pebble of quartz? For once, then, something.
The mystery of existence has tormented and bedeviled the human race for thousands of years. This has brought about the various religious traditions, each with their own unique answer. Each of these answers have their own adherents, but no answer to date has been shown to be satisfactory to the human race as a whole, except, of course, to its followers.
Do I have an answer? No. But, like Khayyam and Frost, I keep looking and hoping.
Monday, May 1, 2017
The Rubaiyat: Second Edition, Quatrain XCIX
Quatrain XCIX links back to the previous quatrain, especially the last two lines of that Quatrain: And lay me, shrouded in the living Leaf,/By some not unfrequented Garden-side.
Second Edition: Quatrain XCIX
Whither resorting from the vernal Heat
Shall Old Acquaintance Old Acquaintance greet,
Under the Branch that leans above the Wall
To shed his Blossom over head and feet.
This quatrain was removed and does appear in the Fifth Edition. Just why he removed it is not known. However, Quatrains XCIIIX and XCIX are prophetic, according to an anecdote related by one of Khayyam's pupils, Khwajah Nizami:
"I often used to hold conversations with my teacher, Omar Khayyam, in a garden; and one day he said to me, "My tomb shall be in a spot where the north wind may scatter roses over it.' I wondered at the words he spake, but I knew that his were no idle words. Years after, when I chanced to revisit Naishapur, I went to his final resting place, and lo! it was just outside a garden, and trees laden with fruit stretched their boughs over the garden wall, and dropped their flowers upon his tomb, so that the stone was hidden under them."
from Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam
Illustrations by Edmund Dulac
Garden City Books
What's a bit unusual in this quatrain occurs in line two where "Old" is capitalized. That "Acquaintance" is capitalized is not unusual for FitzGerald usually capitalizes nouns, but this is the only time, as far as I can remember, that an adjective was capitalized. For example, "vernal," an adjective in the first line is in lower case. I don't know if this is true for other readers, but the first thought that entered my mind when I read "Old Acquaintance" was of Robert Burns' first lyric to his very popular song that appears every New Year's Eve: "Auld Lang Syne. The problem, of course, is that Burns wrote "auld acquaintance," not "old acquaintance."
Just a thought.
Second Edition: Quatrain XCIX
Whither resorting from the vernal Heat
Shall Old Acquaintance Old Acquaintance greet,
Under the Branch that leans above the Wall
To shed his Blossom over head and feet.
This quatrain was removed and does appear in the Fifth Edition. Just why he removed it is not known. However, Quatrains XCIIIX and XCIX are prophetic, according to an anecdote related by one of Khayyam's pupils, Khwajah Nizami:
"I often used to hold conversations with my teacher, Omar Khayyam, in a garden; and one day he said to me, "My tomb shall be in a spot where the north wind may scatter roses over it.' I wondered at the words he spake, but I knew that his were no idle words. Years after, when I chanced to revisit Naishapur, I went to his final resting place, and lo! it was just outside a garden, and trees laden with fruit stretched their boughs over the garden wall, and dropped their flowers upon his tomb, so that the stone was hidden under them."
from Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam
Illustrations by Edmund Dulac
Garden City Books
What's a bit unusual in this quatrain occurs in line two where "Old" is capitalized. That "Acquaintance" is capitalized is not unusual for FitzGerald usually capitalizes nouns, but this is the only time, as far as I can remember, that an adjective was capitalized. For example, "vernal," an adjective in the first line is in lower case. I don't know if this is true for other readers, but the first thought that entered my mind when I read "Old Acquaintance" was of Robert Burns' first lyric to his very popular song that appears every New Year's Eve: "Auld Lang Syne. The problem, of course, is that Burns wrote "auld acquaintance," not "old acquaintance."
Just a thought.
Saturday, April 8, 2017
The Rubaiyat: Second Edition, Quatrain XC
This quatrain is linked to the previous quatrain in which the narrator eavesdrops on the Potter's creations as they comment in the Potter's absence. The Potter, to me, suggests the Creator.
Second Edition: Quatrain XC
And once again there gathered a scarce heard
Whisper among them; as it were, the stirr'd
Ashes of some all but extinguished Tongue,
Which mine ear kindled into living Word.
According to another Rubaiyat collection that I have, the Fifth Edition version of this quatrain is LXXXIII. However, I don't see the relationship between XC and LXXXIII. It seems to me, therefore, that this is one of the quatrains that FitzGerald added in the Second Edition but had removed by the time the Fifth Edition was published. I can see why, for this quatrain really doesn't say much. Although one might expect the following quatrain to tell us what that living Word might be, the first line of the following quatrain, Said one among them--"Surely not in vain," strikes me as ambiguous or awkwardly expressed. It really doesn't flow smoothly from the previous quatrain.
Among the Potter's creations, one is speaking so quietly that it sounds as if it were just some ashes being stirred. The reference here is obvious: ashes to ashes and dust to dust. Possibly some long deceased human's ashes were gathered up in the clay used to create this pot. I wonder if this is a vague reference to reincarnation. That voice, Which mine ear kindled into living Word, was so faint that I wonder if he really heard anything at all.
I think this was supposed to be an introductory quatrain, leading to some idea expressed in the following quatrain. However, this didn't happen, so FitzGerald decided to remove it.
Second Edition: Quatrain XC
And once again there gathered a scarce heard
Whisper among them; as it were, the stirr'd
Ashes of some all but extinguished Tongue,
Which mine ear kindled into living Word.
According to another Rubaiyat collection that I have, the Fifth Edition version of this quatrain is LXXXIII. However, I don't see the relationship between XC and LXXXIII. It seems to me, therefore, that this is one of the quatrains that FitzGerald added in the Second Edition but had removed by the time the Fifth Edition was published. I can see why, for this quatrain really doesn't say much. Although one might expect the following quatrain to tell us what that living Word might be, the first line of the following quatrain, Said one among them--"Surely not in vain," strikes me as ambiguous or awkwardly expressed. It really doesn't flow smoothly from the previous quatrain.
Among the Potter's creations, one is speaking so quietly that it sounds as if it were just some ashes being stirred. The reference here is obvious: ashes to ashes and dust to dust. Possibly some long deceased human's ashes were gathered up in the clay used to create this pot. I wonder if this is a vague reference to reincarnation. That voice, Which mine ear kindled into living Word, was so faint that I wonder if he really heard anything at all.
I think this was supposed to be an introductory quatrain, leading to some idea expressed in the following quatrain. However, this didn't happen, so FitzGerald decided to remove it.
Sunday, March 5, 2017
The Rubaiyat: Second Edition, Quatrain LXXXVI
A confusing quatrain: the syntax is not clear to me.
SECOND EDITION: QUATRAIN LXXXVI
Nay, but for the terror of his wrathful Face,
I swear I will not call Injustice Grace;
Not one Good Fellow of the Tavern but
Would kick so poor a Coward from this place.
Perhaps FitzGerald felt there were problems with this quatrain, for it had disappeared by the time the Fifth Edition was published.
I think the meaning is that the "terror of his wrathful Face," what is what would prevent him from calling "Injustice Grace." This refers back to the theme of those pleasures that God set before us and then forbade us from tasting them under pain if eternal punishment.
I think he refers to himself as so poor a Coward for being afraid to stand up and say what he thinks. Those in the Tavern understand his fear and therefore would not reject him. If this is an adequate reading, then the quatrain is a very strange one: one that suggests that it is fear of God that keeps him from speaking the truth. Perhaps FitzGerald had similar problems with it, for it was removed by the fifth edition, if not earlier.
Any other meanings possible? Am I missing something?
SECOND EDITION: QUATRAIN LXXXVI
Nay, but for the terror of his wrathful Face,
I swear I will not call Injustice Grace;
Not one Good Fellow of the Tavern but
Would kick so poor a Coward from this place.
Perhaps FitzGerald felt there were problems with this quatrain, for it had disappeared by the time the Fifth Edition was published.
I think the meaning is that the "terror of his wrathful Face," what is what would prevent him from calling "Injustice Grace." This refers back to the theme of those pleasures that God set before us and then forbade us from tasting them under pain if eternal punishment.
I think he refers to himself as so poor a Coward for being afraid to stand up and say what he thinks. Those in the Tavern understand his fear and therefore would not reject him. If this is an adequate reading, then the quatrain is a very strange one: one that suggests that it is fear of God that keeps him from speaking the truth. Perhaps FitzGerald had similar problems with it, for it was removed by the fifth edition, if not earlier.
Any other meanings possible? Am I missing something?
Sunday, February 12, 2017
The Rubaiyat: Second Edition, Quatrain LXXXV
This quatrain is linked to the previous quatrain in which the Poet/Narrator points out that the Creator has put before us certain pleasures and then denies them to us "under pain/Of Everlasting Penalties..."
Second Edition: Quatrain LXXXV
What! from his helpless Creature be repaid
Pure Gold for what he lent us dross-allay'd
Sue for a Debt we never did contract,
And cannot answer--Oh, the sorry trade!
Fifth Edition: Quatrain LXXIX
What! from his helpless Creature be repaid
Pure Gold for what he lent us dross-allay'd--
Sue for a Debt we never did contract,
And cannot answer--Oh, the sorry trade!
Aside from the dash after "dross-allay'd" in the second line of the Fifth Edition, I can see no other differences between the Second Edition and the Fifth (Final) Edition.
This quatrain develops the theme of the previous quatrain--the injustice of an eternal punishment of Creatures for partaking in pleasures put before them. We are helpless creatures who are expected to act with perfect obedience, "Pure Gold," when we were given only imperfect and sinful characters to begin with, characters that are "dross-allay'd." Is it reasonable to expect perfect performance from imperfect creatures? Moreover, we were not given the opportunity to review this "contract." It was simply placed upon us without our consent. Would a human court would enforce such a contract?
Second Edition: Quatrain LXXXV
What! from his helpless Creature be repaid
Pure Gold for what he lent us dross-allay'd
Sue for a Debt we never did contract,
And cannot answer--Oh, the sorry trade!
Fifth Edition: Quatrain LXXIX
What! from his helpless Creature be repaid
Pure Gold for what he lent us dross-allay'd--
Sue for a Debt we never did contract,
And cannot answer--Oh, the sorry trade!
Aside from the dash after "dross-allay'd" in the second line of the Fifth Edition, I can see no other differences between the Second Edition and the Fifth (Final) Edition.
This quatrain develops the theme of the previous quatrain--the injustice of an eternal punishment of Creatures for partaking in pleasures put before them. We are helpless creatures who are expected to act with perfect obedience, "Pure Gold," when we were given only imperfect and sinful characters to begin with, characters that are "dross-allay'd." Is it reasonable to expect perfect performance from imperfect creatures? Moreover, we were not given the opportunity to review this "contract." It was simply placed upon us without our consent. Would a human court would enforce such a contract?
Tuesday, January 3, 2017
The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam: Second Edition, Quatrain LXXXIV
Would God punish us for tasting certain of the pleasures that He created?
Second Edition: Quatrain LXXXIV
What! out of senseless Nothing to provoke
A conscious Something to resent the yoke
Of unpermitted Pleasure, under pain
Of Everlasting Penalties, if broke!
Fifth Edition: Quatrain LXXVIII
What! out of senseless Nothing to provoke
A conscious Something to resent the yoke
Of unpermitted Pleasure, under pain
Of Everlasting Penalties, if broke!
After adding this quatrain to the second edition, FitzGerald left it as it was, unchanged through the next three editions.
His point seems fairly straight forward, at least to me anyway. God creates us from nothing and then provokes us by forbidding certain pleasures that He Himself placed in our path. The penalty seems cruel and unjust in that it will be everlasting. The tone, actually, strikes me as indignation, more than anything else: the unfairness of it all.
Is this why God created us, brought us out of nothingness in order to punish us eternally for violating some arbitrary rules? If this is an accurate translation and not slanted by FitzGerald's own religious beliefs, then I can see why Omar Khayyam was a controversial figure in his time and afterwards. Part of the problem is that scholars suspect that a number of the quatrains in The Rubaiyat attributed to him were actually written later by others.
In any case, whoever is responsible for this quatrain has asked an interesting question, and one that will be answered solely based on one's own beliefs.
Second Edition: Quatrain LXXXIV
What! out of senseless Nothing to provoke
A conscious Something to resent the yoke
Of unpermitted Pleasure, under pain
Of Everlasting Penalties, if broke!
Fifth Edition: Quatrain LXXVIII
What! out of senseless Nothing to provoke
A conscious Something to resent the yoke
Of unpermitted Pleasure, under pain
Of Everlasting Penalties, if broke!
After adding this quatrain to the second edition, FitzGerald left it as it was, unchanged through the next three editions.
His point seems fairly straight forward, at least to me anyway. God creates us from nothing and then provokes us by forbidding certain pleasures that He Himself placed in our path. The penalty seems cruel and unjust in that it will be everlasting. The tone, actually, strikes me as indignation, more than anything else: the unfairness of it all.
Is this why God created us, brought us out of nothingness in order to punish us eternally for violating some arbitrary rules? If this is an accurate translation and not slanted by FitzGerald's own religious beliefs, then I can see why Omar Khayyam was a controversial figure in his time and afterwards. Part of the problem is that scholars suspect that a number of the quatrains in The Rubaiyat attributed to him were actually written later by others.
In any case, whoever is responsible for this quatrain has asked an interesting question, and one that will be answered solely based on one's own beliefs.
Sunday, December 4, 2016
The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam: Second Edition, Quatrain LXXX
Quatrain LXXX is linked closely to the previous quatrain, LXXIX.
Second Edition: Quatrain LXXIX
With Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man knead,
And there of the Last Harvast sow'd the seed:
And the first Morning of Creation wrote
What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read.
As you can see, the previous quatrain leads directly to today's quatrain.
Second Edition: Quatrain LXXX
Yesterday, This Day's Madness did prepare:
To-morrow's Silence, Triumph, or Despair:
Drink! for you know not whence you came, nor why:
Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.
Fifth Edition: Quatrain LXXIV
Yesterday This Day's Madness did prepare;
To-morrow's Silence, Triumph, or Despair:
Drink! for you know not whence you came, nor why:
Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.
Aside from two punctuation changes, a dropped comma after "Yesterday," and the substitution of a semi-colon for a colon after "prepare" (which may have simply been a typesetter's errors), the two versions are the same.
The first two lines bring out a theme that has appeared before this--that of causality. Today's events or happenings are the result of what happened in the past and will inevitably lead to future consequences. This suggests predestination or a deterministic universe. The first two lines still leave the past free if you want to see it that way. Others may argue for an unbroken chain of events going back to . . .? On the other hand, to complicate the issue, we can always bring in Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle and Chaos Theory which many now see as refuting any theory of a deterministic universe.
The last two lines restate a very familiar theme: we don't know where we came from and we don't know where we are going, and we don't know why we are here. This, of course, strikes directly into the heart of most religions whose basis for their existence is that THEY know all the answers. The Poet/Narrator clearly has some doubts about this, which he has stated many times throughout the poem.
Second Edition: Quatrain LXXIX
With Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man knead,
And there of the Last Harvast sow'd the seed:
And the first Morning of Creation wrote
What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read.
As you can see, the previous quatrain leads directly to today's quatrain.
Second Edition: Quatrain LXXX
Yesterday, This Day's Madness did prepare:
To-morrow's Silence, Triumph, or Despair:
Drink! for you know not whence you came, nor why:
Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.
Fifth Edition: Quatrain LXXIV
Yesterday This Day's Madness did prepare;
To-morrow's Silence, Triumph, or Despair:
Drink! for you know not whence you came, nor why:
Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.
Aside from two punctuation changes, a dropped comma after "Yesterday," and the substitution of a semi-colon for a colon after "prepare" (which may have simply been a typesetter's errors), the two versions are the same.
The first two lines bring out a theme that has appeared before this--that of causality. Today's events or happenings are the result of what happened in the past and will inevitably lead to future consequences. This suggests predestination or a deterministic universe. The first two lines still leave the past free if you want to see it that way. Others may argue for an unbroken chain of events going back to . . .? On the other hand, to complicate the issue, we can always bring in Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle and Chaos Theory which many now see as refuting any theory of a deterministic universe.
The last two lines restate a very familiar theme: we don't know where we came from and we don't know where we are going, and we don't know why we are here. This, of course, strikes directly into the heart of most religions whose basis for their existence is that THEY know all the answers. The Poet/Narrator clearly has some doubts about this, which he has stated many times throughout the poem.
Wednesday, November 2, 2016
The Rubaiyat: Second Edition, Quatrain LXXVII
Quatrain LXXVII of the Second Edition refers back to the previous quatrain in the Second Edition:
Second Edition, Quatrain LXXVI
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line
Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.
The Moving Finger reference comes from the Bible, Book of Daniel, chapter 5, in which Daniel interprets the words written on Belshazzer's palace wall during a feast. The words predict Belshazzar's death and nothing can be done to change that.
Second Edition: Quatrain LXXVII
For let Philosopher and Doctor preach
Of what they will, and what they will not--each
Is but one Link in an eternal Chain
That none can slip, nor break, nor overreach.
This quatrain appeared first in the Second Edition and was then dropped from all following editions. FitzGerald apparently had second thoughts about it. One possible reason may be the theme. The theme of the previous quatrain was the immutability of the past. What has happened, has happened and can't be changed. This quatrain goes beyond that and appears to extend it into the future: the philosophers and doctors are "but one Link in an eternal Chain." This, to me anyway, hints at predestination, which is rejected by most Christians and Moslems, as far as I know.
Second Edition, Quatrain LXXVI
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line
Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.
The Moving Finger reference comes from the Bible, Book of Daniel, chapter 5, in which Daniel interprets the words written on Belshazzer's palace wall during a feast. The words predict Belshazzar's death and nothing can be done to change that.
Second Edition: Quatrain LXXVII
For let Philosopher and Doctor preach
Of what they will, and what they will not--each
Is but one Link in an eternal Chain
That none can slip, nor break, nor overreach.
This quatrain appeared first in the Second Edition and was then dropped from all following editions. FitzGerald apparently had second thoughts about it. One possible reason may be the theme. The theme of the previous quatrain was the immutability of the past. What has happened, has happened and can't be changed. This quatrain goes beyond that and appears to extend it into the future: the philosophers and doctors are "but one Link in an eternal Chain." This, to me anyway, hints at predestination, which is rejected by most Christians and Moslems, as far as I know.
Friday, October 7, 2016
The Rubaiyat: Second Edition, Quatrain LXXII
This quatrain continues the theme of the nature of the afterlife, or at least the Poet's thoughts on what it is. The theme, therefore, ties this quatrain to the previous quatrain's last line: " . . .Behold, Myself am Heav'n and Hell:". Moreover, the last line of the previous quatrain ends with a colon, not a period, and thus this quatrain serves grammatically to amplify or extend or explain the previous one.
Second Edition: Quatrain LXXII
Heav'n but the Vision of fulfill'd Desire,
And Hell the Shadow of a Soul on fire,
Cast on the Darkness into which Ourselves,
So late emerged from, shall so soon expire.
Fifth Edition: Quatrain LXVII
Heav'n but the Vision of fulfill'd Desire,
And Hell the Shadow of a Soul on fire,
Cast on the Darkness into which Ourselves,
So late emerged from, shall so soon expire.
The quatrain is identical in the two editions.
As I mentioned above, this quatrain follows the colon of the previous quatrain
Quatrain LXXI. . ..Behold, Myself am Heav'n and Hell:"
Quatrain LXXII Heav'n but the Vision of fulfill'd Desire,
And Hell the Shadow of a Soul on fire,
Cast on the Darkness into which Ourselves,
So late emerged from, shall so soon expire.
and explains the nature of that Heav'n and Hell. The two states are portrayed as a Vision and a Shadow, and not, seemingly, a location. This would conflict with the views of Heaven and Hell as actual places in for both Islamic and Christian traditions. Furthermore, the Poet has consistently held that nobody knows if there is an afterlife and what it would be if it exists, and that those who describe Heaven and Hell are talking about their own present psychological states of mind: they are a Vision and a Shadow. Heaven is where we will get everything we want and Hell a state of guilt for our sins.
This Vision and this Shadow then are put forth onto the Void or Darkness from we have just emerged at birth and will return to shortly. The Void signifies the unknown, from which we emerged and to which we will return, a constant theme in previous quatrains. As the Poet has expressed it earlier: we don't know where we came from and we are equally ignorant of our destination.
Second Edition: Quatrain LXXII
Heav'n but the Vision of fulfill'd Desire,
And Hell the Shadow of a Soul on fire,
Cast on the Darkness into which Ourselves,
So late emerged from, shall so soon expire.
Fifth Edition: Quatrain LXVII
Heav'n but the Vision of fulfill'd Desire,
And Hell the Shadow of a Soul on fire,
Cast on the Darkness into which Ourselves,
So late emerged from, shall so soon expire.
The quatrain is identical in the two editions.
As I mentioned above, this quatrain follows the colon of the previous quatrain
Quatrain LXXI. . ..Behold, Myself am Heav'n and Hell:"
Quatrain LXXII Heav'n but the Vision of fulfill'd Desire,
And Hell the Shadow of a Soul on fire,
Cast on the Darkness into which Ourselves,
So late emerged from, shall so soon expire.
and explains the nature of that Heav'n and Hell. The two states are portrayed as a Vision and a Shadow, and not, seemingly, a location. This would conflict with the views of Heaven and Hell as actual places in for both Islamic and Christian traditions. Furthermore, the Poet has consistently held that nobody knows if there is an afterlife and what it would be if it exists, and that those who describe Heaven and Hell are talking about their own present psychological states of mind: they are a Vision and a Shadow. Heaven is where we will get everything we want and Hell a state of guilt for our sins.
This Vision and this Shadow then are put forth onto the Void or Darkness from we have just emerged at birth and will return to shortly. The Void signifies the unknown, from which we emerged and to which we will return, a constant theme in previous quatrains. As the Poet has expressed it earlier: we don't know where we came from and we are equally ignorant of our destination.
Tuesday, September 13, 2016
The Rubaiyat: Second Edition, Quatrain LXXI
And yet another quatrain that FitzGerald introduced in the Second Edition.
Second Edition: Quatrain LXXI
I sent my Soul through the Invisible,
Some letter of that After-life to spell:
And after many days my Soul return'd
And said, "Behold, Myself am Heav'n and Hell:"
Fifth Edition: Quatrain LXVI
I sent my Soul through the Invisible,
Some letter of that After-life to spell:
And by and by my Soul return'd to me,
And answered, "I Myself am Heav'n and Hell:"
Note the colon that ends each version of the quatrain. That signifies that the quatrain that follows will provide a further elaboration to that last line.
FitzGerald has modified the last two lines of the quatrain. He has substituted "by and by" for "after many days" in the third line. The first version suggests that the Soul returned a long time later (many days) while the second is far more indeterminate (by and by). That could be many days or hours or weeks or . . .?
Perhaps he felt that after many days was too prosaic and that by and by flowed more smoothly.
The second change, from Behold, Myself am to I Myself am, seems, to me anyway, to eliminate the awkwardness of Myself am and replacing it with the much more standard I Myself am.
The Poet/Narrator does not say how he sent his Soul searching for information about the Afterlife. Perhaps he uses some form of meditation or maybe even wine. He does not say. But, his Soul does return with an answer, a rather disconcerting one at that: "I Myself am Heav'n and Hell:".
This reminds me of Milton's Paradise Lost in which Satan says, "Which way I fly is Hell: myself am Hell." This is the wording of the last line in the Second Edition, only FitzGerald has added "Heav'n" to the equation. Actually, it now seems to me that the entire quatrain seems to echo that line in Milton or perhaps is FitzGerald's incorporation of that line from Milton into the Rubaiyat..
But, the addition of Heav'n changes radically Satan's realization. Satan is doomed to Hell with no escape, but humans, some anyway, have another possibility. Yet, the operative verb is am which signifies identity in both FitzGerald's and Milton's poems. It is not that they are destined for Hell but that they are Hell itself, or possibly Heaven also for FitzGerald.
Is there a suggestion here that the nature of the Afterlife is not determined by the Creator but by ourselves? Since we are Heaven and Hell, does that mean that Afterlife will be as we are, both Heaven and Hell? Or perhaps, the Afterlife for the Good will be as they are, Heaven, and for the Evil, it is Hell?
Second Edition: Quatrain LXXI
I sent my Soul through the Invisible,
Some letter of that After-life to spell:
And after many days my Soul return'd
And said, "Behold, Myself am Heav'n and Hell:"
Fifth Edition: Quatrain LXVI
I sent my Soul through the Invisible,
Some letter of that After-life to spell:
And by and by my Soul return'd to me,
And answered, "I Myself am Heav'n and Hell:"
Note the colon that ends each version of the quatrain. That signifies that the quatrain that follows will provide a further elaboration to that last line.
FitzGerald has modified the last two lines of the quatrain. He has substituted "by and by" for "after many days" in the third line. The first version suggests that the Soul returned a long time later (many days) while the second is far more indeterminate (by and by). That could be many days or hours or weeks or . . .?
Perhaps he felt that after many days was too prosaic and that by and by flowed more smoothly.
The second change, from Behold, Myself am to I Myself am, seems, to me anyway, to eliminate the awkwardness of Myself am and replacing it with the much more standard I Myself am.
The Poet/Narrator does not say how he sent his Soul searching for information about the Afterlife. Perhaps he uses some form of meditation or maybe even wine. He does not say. But, his Soul does return with an answer, a rather disconcerting one at that: "I Myself am Heav'n and Hell:".
This reminds me of Milton's Paradise Lost in which Satan says, "Which way I fly is Hell: myself am Hell." This is the wording of the last line in the Second Edition, only FitzGerald has added "Heav'n" to the equation. Actually, it now seems to me that the entire quatrain seems to echo that line in Milton or perhaps is FitzGerald's incorporation of that line from Milton into the Rubaiyat..
But, the addition of Heav'n changes radically Satan's realization. Satan is doomed to Hell with no escape, but humans, some anyway, have another possibility. Yet, the operative verb is am which signifies identity in both FitzGerald's and Milton's poems. It is not that they are destined for Hell but that they are Hell itself, or possibly Heaven also for FitzGerald.
Is there a suggestion here that the nature of the Afterlife is not determined by the Creator but by ourselves? Since we are Heaven and Hell, does that mean that Afterlife will be as we are, both Heaven and Hell? Or perhaps, the Afterlife for the Good will be as they are, Heaven, and for the Evil, it is Hell?
Sunday, August 21, 2016
The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam: Second Edition, Quatrain LXX
This quatrain responds to the previous quatrain in which the human body was referred to as a "Clay suburb."
Second Edition: Quatrain LXX
But that is but a Tent wherein may rest
A Sultan to the realm of Death addrest;
The Sultan rises, and the dark Ferrash
Strikes, and prepares it for another Guest.
Fifth Edition: Quatrain XLV
'Tis but a Tent where takes his one day rest
A Sultan to the realm of Death addrest;
The Sultan rises, and the dark Ferrash
Strikes, and prepares it for another Guest.
The only difference between the Second and the Fifth editions occurs in the first line, which FitzGerald seems to modify to make it flow more easily and to eliminate that double "but." This is one of the rare occasions in which I like the second version more than the first.
The body is now a tent which the occupant leaves behind, just as the soul presumably leaves the body behind at death. Since the body is composed of clay or dust or ash, it will be used again and again in the future. We are here for a short time only and then must move on to make room for "another Guest."
The Ferrash has pitched the tent (the body) and now it strikes it: "the LORD gave, and the LORD hath taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD," as we read in the KJV, Job 1:21.
Note: Ferrash: Servant, tent-pitcher.
Definition found in the glossary of The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, "Published for the Classics Club by Walter J. Black: Roslyn, N. Y.
Second Edition: Quatrain LXX
But that is but a Tent wherein may rest
A Sultan to the realm of Death addrest;
The Sultan rises, and the dark Ferrash
Strikes, and prepares it for another Guest.
Fifth Edition: Quatrain XLV
'Tis but a Tent where takes his one day rest
A Sultan to the realm of Death addrest;
The Sultan rises, and the dark Ferrash
Strikes, and prepares it for another Guest.
The only difference between the Second and the Fifth editions occurs in the first line, which FitzGerald seems to modify to make it flow more easily and to eliminate that double "but." This is one of the rare occasions in which I like the second version more than the first.
The body is now a tent which the occupant leaves behind, just as the soul presumably leaves the body behind at death. Since the body is composed of clay or dust or ash, it will be used again and again in the future. We are here for a short time only and then must move on to make room for "another Guest."
The Ferrash has pitched the tent (the body) and now it strikes it: "the LORD gave, and the LORD hath taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD," as we read in the KJV, Job 1:21.
Note: Ferrash: Servant, tent-pitcher.
Definition found in the glossary of The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, "Published for the Classics Club by Walter J. Black: Roslyn, N. Y.
Sunday, July 31, 2016
The Rubaiyat: Second Edition, Quatrain LXIX
The following is another quatrain FitzGerald added to the Second Edition.
Second Edition: Quatrain LXIX
Why, if the Soul can fling the Dust aside,
And naked on the Air of Heaven ride,
Is't not a Shame--is't not a Shame for him
So long in this Clay suburb to abide!
Fifth Edition: Quatrain XLIV
Why, if the Soul can fling the Dust aside,
And naked on the Air of Heaven ride,
Were't not a Shame--were't not a Shame for him
In this Clay carcase crippled to abide?
The first two lines are identical. The changes appear in the third and fourth lines. The third line poses the most problems: the change from "Is't" to "Were't." Since I have never encountered these contractions before, I went searching and found that "Is't" most likely means "is it." I found several different possibilities for "Were't" and finally concluded that the contraction stands for "were it" which fits best when considering that it replaced "is't." The most significant change in the fourth line is the replacement of "suburb" by "carcase," which brings out a much clearer reference to the body, especially when one considers Biblical references to clay and dust.
I think the overall theme is that the soul is trapped in the body, that it could be much freer without the body. It comes across much stronger in the Fifth edition when the poet/narrator tells us that the soul is within a "carcase crippled to abide." This, of course, is in line with Christian and Islamic beliefs about the existence of the soul after death, and it's glorious future, if it is destined for heaven.
There, of course, is a gentle irony here when one sees how hard those who believe in a glorious afterlife struggle so hard to remain here in our "crippled" existence, as hard, as far as I can tell, as any atheist or agnostic, in fact.
Second Edition: Quatrain LXIX
Why, if the Soul can fling the Dust aside,
And naked on the Air of Heaven ride,
Is't not a Shame--is't not a Shame for him
So long in this Clay suburb to abide!
Fifth Edition: Quatrain XLIV
Why, if the Soul can fling the Dust aside,
And naked on the Air of Heaven ride,
Were't not a Shame--were't not a Shame for him
In this Clay carcase crippled to abide?
The first two lines are identical. The changes appear in the third and fourth lines. The third line poses the most problems: the change from "Is't" to "Were't." Since I have never encountered these contractions before, I went searching and found that "Is't" most likely means "is it." I found several different possibilities for "Were't" and finally concluded that the contraction stands for "were it" which fits best when considering that it replaced "is't." The most significant change in the fourth line is the replacement of "suburb" by "carcase," which brings out a much clearer reference to the body, especially when one considers Biblical references to clay and dust.
I think the overall theme is that the soul is trapped in the body, that it could be much freer without the body. It comes across much stronger in the Fifth edition when the poet/narrator tells us that the soul is within a "carcase crippled to abide." This, of course, is in line with Christian and Islamic beliefs about the existence of the soul after death, and it's glorious future, if it is destined for heaven.
There, of course, is a gentle irony here when one sees how hard those who believe in a glorious afterlife struggle so hard to remain here in our "crippled" existence, as hard, as far as I can tell, as any atheist or agnostic, in fact.
Wednesday, July 6, 2016
The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam: Second Edition, Quatrain LXVIII
This is another of the quatrains that Edward FitzGerald added to the Second Edition of his version of the Rubaiyat. It's a familiar theme, one brought out previously and linked to the quatrain preceding this one.
SECOND EDITION: QUATRAIN LXVIII
The Revelations of Devout and Learn'd
Who rose before us, and as Prophets burn'd,
Are all but Stories, which, awoke from Sleep
They told their fellows, and to Sleep return'd.
FIFTH EDITION: QUATRAIN LXV
The Revelations of Devout and Learn'd
Who rose before us, and as Prophets burn'd,
Are all but Stories, which, awoke from Sleep,
They told their comrades, and to Sleep return'd.
Aside from the comma added at the end of line three and the change from "fellows" to "comrades," the Fifth Edition is identical to the Second. The comma may simply be a correction wherein the printer missed it in the Second Edition. Perhaps there is an emotional connection to others suggested by "comrades" and possibly lacking in "fellows" is the reason for the change. I do not see that it makes any great change in the overall point of the quatrain.
Those "Revelations" refer back to the previous quatrain, to the claims of what lies ahead for us after death. As the Poet has mentioned in previous quatrains, nobody really knows what follows, if anything, death. That those "Stories" are told after the Devout and Learn'd Prophets have awakened from sleep suggest that they may simply be dreams. But, the wide-spread acceptance of these Stories tells us that many people prefer dreams to uncertainty.
SECOND EDITION: QUATRAIN LXVIII
The Revelations of Devout and Learn'd
Who rose before us, and as Prophets burn'd,
Are all but Stories, which, awoke from Sleep
They told their fellows, and to Sleep return'd.
FIFTH EDITION: QUATRAIN LXV
The Revelations of Devout and Learn'd
Who rose before us, and as Prophets burn'd,
Are all but Stories, which, awoke from Sleep,
They told their comrades, and to Sleep return'd.
Aside from the comma added at the end of line three and the change from "fellows" to "comrades," the Fifth Edition is identical to the Second. The comma may simply be a correction wherein the printer missed it in the Second Edition. Perhaps there is an emotional connection to others suggested by "comrades" and possibly lacking in "fellows" is the reason for the change. I do not see that it makes any great change in the overall point of the quatrain.
Those "Revelations" refer back to the previous quatrain, to the claims of what lies ahead for us after death. As the Poet has mentioned in previous quatrains, nobody really knows what follows, if anything, death. That those "Stories" are told after the Devout and Learn'd Prophets have awakened from sleep suggest that they may simply be dreams. But, the wide-spread acceptance of these Stories tells us that many people prefer dreams to uncertainty.
Friday, June 17, 2016
The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam: Second Edition, Quatrain LXVII
This is another of the quatrains Edward FitzGerald added to the Second Edition.
SECOND EDITION: QUATRAIN LXVII
Strange, is it not? that of the myriads who
Before us pass'd the door of Darkness through,
Not one returns to tell us of the Road,
Which to discover we must travel too.
FIFTH EDITION: QUATRAIN LXIV
Strange, is it not? that of the myriads who
Before us pass'd the door of Darkness through,
Not one returns to tell us of the Road,
Which to discover we must travel too.
The two quatrains of the Second and the Fifth Editions are identical. I can find no changes, even minor punctuation changes. I guess FitzGerald thought he got it right the first time.
The point is clear, nobody has come back after death to tell us what actually happens. I often hear others today discuss smugly how we moderns are so much wiser and more sophisticated than people living centuries earlier, that they believed all sorts of superstitions and had so many silly ideas about the universe.
Perhaps somebody should point out that Khayyam seems far more skeptical than our contemporaries who believe in channelers and mediums who claim to be in contact with the dead and can bring their words to us, one or more of whom even had a TV series in which they "contacted" the spirits of those gone on before. I think he would be equally skeptical of those who claim to hear the voices of the dead on tape recorders set on RECORD and left running in a empty room.
We may have eliminated or almost eliminated several diseases, but we haven't even begun to deal with gullibility. And, I won't say a word about presidential aspirants and their followers.
SECOND EDITION: QUATRAIN LXVII
Strange, is it not? that of the myriads who
Before us pass'd the door of Darkness through,
Not one returns to tell us of the Road,
Which to discover we must travel too.
FIFTH EDITION: QUATRAIN LXIV
Strange, is it not? that of the myriads who
Before us pass'd the door of Darkness through,
Not one returns to tell us of the Road,
Which to discover we must travel too.
The two quatrains of the Second and the Fifth Editions are identical. I can find no changes, even minor punctuation changes. I guess FitzGerald thought he got it right the first time.
The point is clear, nobody has come back after death to tell us what actually happens. I often hear others today discuss smugly how we moderns are so much wiser and more sophisticated than people living centuries earlier, that they believed all sorts of superstitions and had so many silly ideas about the universe.
Perhaps somebody should point out that Khayyam seems far more skeptical than our contemporaries who believe in channelers and mediums who claim to be in contact with the dead and can bring their words to us, one or more of whom even had a TV series in which they "contacted" the spirits of those gone on before. I think he would be equally skeptical of those who claim to hear the voices of the dead on tape recorders set on RECORD and left running in a empty room.
We may have eliminated or almost eliminated several diseases, but we haven't even begun to deal with gullibility. And, I won't say a word about presidential aspirants and their followers.
Tuesday, May 31, 2016
The Rubaiyat: Second Editiion, Quatrain LXVI
This post actually includes an error on my part. When I went through the First Edition and included those quatrains from the Second Edition that had appeared in that Edition, I somehow missed this one. Consequently I will include the relevant quatrain from the First Edition as well as that from the Fifth Edition.
SECOND EDITION: QUATRAIN LXVI
Oh, threats of Hell and Hopes of Paradise!
One thing at least is certain--This Life flies;
One thing is certain and the rest is Lies,
The Flower that once is blown for ever dies.
FIFTH EDITION: QUATRAIN LXIII
Oh, threats of Hell and Hopes of Paradise!
One thing at least is certain--This Life flies;
One thing is certain and the rest is Lies,
The Flower that once has blown for ever dies.
FIRST EDITION: QUATRAIN XXVI
Oh, come with old Khayyam, and leave the Wise
To talk; one thing is certain, that Life flies;
One thing is certain, and the Rest is Lies;
The Flower that once has blown for ever dies.
The most significant differences occur between the First and Second Editions, the first two lines to be exact, while the Fifth Edition is identical to the Second. The quatrain in the First Edition opens with an informal and chatty invitation to join the Poet "and leave the Wise To talk" whereas the tone becomes more serious in the Second Edition when it rejects religious warnings of "threats of Hell and Hopes of Paradise."
One reason for the change may be that the quatrain advises readers to leave the wise to talk and listen to the poet. Then the last two lines refers to lies, which may suggest that the poet thinks the wise are telling lies. The wise would be theologians and philosophers, some of whom might be the poet's friends or possibly some highly regarded and influential people.
Much of the second lines of the three editions are the same, and the third and fourth lines are identical in all three editions.
The three editions of this quatrain posits a common theme found in a number of the quatrains in which the Poet reminds us that nobody really knows what happens, if anything, after death. Secondly, there is a clear rejection of the idea of reincarnation here: "The Flower that once has blown for ever dies." While some might argue that he speaks of a flower, I would say that he is generalizing to all life on this planet.
SECOND EDITION: QUATRAIN LXVI
Oh, threats of Hell and Hopes of Paradise!
One thing at least is certain--This Life flies;
One thing is certain and the rest is Lies,
The Flower that once is blown for ever dies.
FIFTH EDITION: QUATRAIN LXIII
Oh, threats of Hell and Hopes of Paradise!
One thing at least is certain--This Life flies;
One thing is certain and the rest is Lies,
The Flower that once has blown for ever dies.
FIRST EDITION: QUATRAIN XXVI
Oh, come with old Khayyam, and leave the Wise
To talk; one thing is certain, that Life flies;
One thing is certain, and the Rest is Lies;
The Flower that once has blown for ever dies.
The most significant differences occur between the First and Second Editions, the first two lines to be exact, while the Fifth Edition is identical to the Second. The quatrain in the First Edition opens with an informal and chatty invitation to join the Poet "and leave the Wise To talk" whereas the tone becomes more serious in the Second Edition when it rejects religious warnings of "threats of Hell and Hopes of Paradise."
One reason for the change may be that the quatrain advises readers to leave the wise to talk and listen to the poet. Then the last two lines refers to lies, which may suggest that the poet thinks the wise are telling lies. The wise would be theologians and philosophers, some of whom might be the poet's friends or possibly some highly regarded and influential people.
Much of the second lines of the three editions are the same, and the third and fourth lines are identical in all three editions.
The three editions of this quatrain posits a common theme found in a number of the quatrains in which the Poet reminds us that nobody really knows what happens, if anything, after death. Secondly, there is a clear rejection of the idea of reincarnation here: "The Flower that once has blown for ever dies." While some might argue that he speaks of a flower, I would say that he is generalizing to all life on this planet.
Tuesday, May 3, 2016
The Rubaiyat: Second Edition, Quatrain LXV
This quatrain was added in the Second Edition but had been removed by the time the Fifth Edition was published. Frankly, I'm puzzled by it.
SECOND EDITION: QUATRAIN LXV
If but the Vine and Love-abjuring Band
Are in the Prophet's Paradise to stand,
Alack, I doubt the Prophet's Paradise
Were empty as the hollow of one's Hand.
The problem, for me anyway, are the verbs adjure and abjure. Adjure means to encourage or earnestly entreat others to do something, almost a command, while abjure means to forbid or to abstain from something. I have two copies of The Rubaiyat and in one, the verb is adjure for Quatrains LXIV and LXV and in the other, it is abjure. The logic of Quatrain LXIV suggests that the verb should be abjure, that one should abstain from alcohol.
That is why this quatrain is puzzling. The poet suggests that if those who abjure or abstain from the Vine and Love. . . gain Paradise, then the poet doesn't think (doubts) that Paradise would be empty. This suggests that those who abjure wine and love will go to heaven, but it doesn't say anything about those who don't abjure the Vine and Love. Could it be that it doesn't make any difference what one believes? All will go to Paradise.
I suspect my problem is caused some changes in meaning in one or more words in the quatrain. Or perhaps what puzzles me is what caused FitzGerald to eventually drop this quatrain.
Your thoughts?
SECOND EDITION: QUATRAIN LXV
If but the Vine and Love-abjuring Band
Are in the Prophet's Paradise to stand,
Alack, I doubt the Prophet's Paradise
Were empty as the hollow of one's Hand.
The problem, for me anyway, are the verbs adjure and abjure. Adjure means to encourage or earnestly entreat others to do something, almost a command, while abjure means to forbid or to abstain from something. I have two copies of The Rubaiyat and in one, the verb is adjure for Quatrains LXIV and LXV and in the other, it is abjure. The logic of Quatrain LXIV suggests that the verb should be abjure, that one should abstain from alcohol.
That is why this quatrain is puzzling. The poet suggests that if those who abjure or abstain from the Vine and Love. . . gain Paradise, then the poet doesn't think (doubts) that Paradise would be empty. This suggests that those who abjure wine and love will go to heaven, but it doesn't say anything about those who don't abjure the Vine and Love. Could it be that it doesn't make any difference what one believes? All will go to Paradise.
I suspect my problem is caused some changes in meaning in one or more words in the quatrain. Or perhaps what puzzles me is what caused FitzGerald to eventually drop this quatrain.
Your thoughts?
Tuesday, April 5, 2016
The Rubaiyat: Second Edition, Quatrain LXIV
Another in a series of posts regarding quatrains that Edward FitzGerald added when he published the Second Edition of The Rubaiyat.
Second Edition: Quatrain LXIV
I must abjure the Balm of Life, I must,
Scared by some After-reckoning ta'en on trust,
Or lured with Hope of some Diviner Drink,
When the frail Cup is crumbled into Dust!
Fifth Edition: Quatrain LXII
I must abjure the Balm of Life, I must,
Scared by some After-reckoning ta'en on trust,
Or lured with Hope of some Diviner Drink,
To fill the Cup--when crumbled into Dust!
The first three lines of the two are identical, and the only modification appears in the last line where we read
Second Edition: "When the frail Cup is crumbled into Dust!"
Fifth Edition: "To fill the Cup--when crumbled into Dust!"
The "Cup" and its fate is a reference to other quatrains in which the Potter is seen fashioning cups out of clay, much as the Creator created humans out of dust or clay and at the end will return to their original state. In yet another quatrain, a cup remarks that if filled with wine, it might return to life again.
Is there a difference, perhaps even a subtle difference, between the two versions?
It seems to me that in the Second Edition, there is the hope that after death, there might be "some Diviner Drink," with no reference to the body. The last line in the Fifth Edition suggests something quite different, or so it seems to me:
". . .some Diviner Drink,
To fill the Cup--when crumbled into Dust!"
This seems to say that the "Diviner Drink" will fill the "Cup" after death, possibly a reference to the resurrection of the body after death, a belief that Moslems hold, as do Christians, and Jews, as far as I can tell.
This quatrain is linked to the previous quatrain in which the Poet defends drinking wine by arguing that it's God's creation, which cannot, therefore, be evil. In this quatrain, he points out that the ban against alcohol is really based on "trust," or faith that either one might be punished or rewarded in an after-life. Of course, the Poet has already made the point in previous quatrains that nobody really knows what happens after death, that nobody has ever returned to tell us, and that all such theories are just guesses based on nothing substantial.
The Poet's attitude about the virtues of drinking wine are expressed quite clearly and openly, once again, when he refers to it as "the Balm of Life," something which is comforting.
Second Edition: Quatrain LXIV
I must abjure the Balm of Life, I must,
Scared by some After-reckoning ta'en on trust,
Or lured with Hope of some Diviner Drink,
When the frail Cup is crumbled into Dust!
Fifth Edition: Quatrain LXII
I must abjure the Balm of Life, I must,
Scared by some After-reckoning ta'en on trust,
Or lured with Hope of some Diviner Drink,
To fill the Cup--when crumbled into Dust!
The first three lines of the two are identical, and the only modification appears in the last line where we read
Second Edition: "When the frail Cup is crumbled into Dust!"
Fifth Edition: "To fill the Cup--when crumbled into Dust!"
The "Cup" and its fate is a reference to other quatrains in which the Potter is seen fashioning cups out of clay, much as the Creator created humans out of dust or clay and at the end will return to their original state. In yet another quatrain, a cup remarks that if filled with wine, it might return to life again.
Is there a difference, perhaps even a subtle difference, between the two versions?
It seems to me that in the Second Edition, there is the hope that after death, there might be "some Diviner Drink," with no reference to the body. The last line in the Fifth Edition suggests something quite different, or so it seems to me:
". . .some Diviner Drink,
To fill the Cup--when crumbled into Dust!"
This seems to say that the "Diviner Drink" will fill the "Cup" after death, possibly a reference to the resurrection of the body after death, a belief that Moslems hold, as do Christians, and Jews, as far as I can tell.
This quatrain is linked to the previous quatrain in which the Poet defends drinking wine by arguing that it's God's creation, which cannot, therefore, be evil. In this quatrain, he points out that the ban against alcohol is really based on "trust," or faith that either one might be punished or rewarded in an after-life. Of course, the Poet has already made the point in previous quatrains that nobody really knows what happens after death, that nobody has ever returned to tell us, and that all such theories are just guesses based on nothing substantial.
The Poet's attitude about the virtues of drinking wine are expressed quite clearly and openly, once again, when he refers to it as "the Balm of Life," something which is comforting.
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