XII
A Book of Verses underneath the Bough,
A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread--and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness--
Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!
XIII
Some for the Glories of This World; and some
Sigh for the Prophet's Paradise to come;
Ah, take the Cash, and let the Credit go,
Nor heed the rumble of a distant Drum!
XIV
Look to the blowing Rose about us--"Lo,
Laughing," she says, "into the world I blow,
At once the silken tassel of my Purse
Tear, and its Treasure on the Garden throw."
XV
And those who husbanded the Golden grain,
And those who flung it to the winds like Rain,
Alike to no such aureate Earth are turn'd
As, buried once, Men want dug up again."
Four rubaiyat, 12-15, from Omar Khayyam's classic. Let's take a look.
XII
We find the poet in the countryside, beneath a tree, with his love, a loaf of bread, a jug of wine.
The poet declares that the earthly wilderness is enough for him. An otherworldly paradise, an orderly garden in heaven is unsought. The message is clear, his needs are few and more than satisfied.
XIII
The poet introduces perspectives other than his own. He mentions those who seek fulfilment in "glory", presumably in contrast to his own simple if not exactly austere pursuits, and those who seek the promise of the world to come. We can choose not to heed the distant drum of war or celebration, and self-determine. This message appears openly critical of contemporary dominant ideology, and may be evidence for the argument that Khayyam was a proto-existentialist or humanist.
XIV
The emerging theme of focusing on the present, taking meaning and happiness in the moment, is developed further. The bloom of the rose does not resist the wind, but is scattered "laughing" as it tears. This image calls to mind the immediacy and inevitability of death. Khayyam also suggests an examination of our own attitude as we are borne out of life.
XV
Khayyam confirms his theme and message in this rubāʿī. We are explicitly given the examples of the careful and careless life to consider. Both examples meet the same end and the dark earth is contrasted with the golden grain. I would argue that Khayyam identifies himself with neither extreme. Instead he leaves us here with an image of the earth. The earth formed from the bodies of those who have died, and is itself without rest and part of the cycle of change we are bound to.