Be not cast down by the troubles which we call vicissitudes
Be not cast down by the troubles which we call vicissitudes
here below. Let us occupy ourselves only in
drinking pure wine, limpid wine, the color of a rose.
Wine, friend, is the blood of the world. The world is
our murderer; how shall we resist drinking the blood of
the heart of him who spills ours?
Poem by
Omar Khayyam
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