Omar Khayyam: [41 - later edition] Perplext no more with Human or Divine Perplext no more with Human or Divine

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[41 - later edition] Perplext no more with Human or Divine Perplext no more with Human or Divine

Omar Khayyam, Omar Khayyam poetry, Muslim / Sufi, Muslim / Sufi poetry, poetry, [TRADITION SUB2] poetry, poetry

by Omar Khayyam
(11th Century) Timeline

English version by
Edward FitzGerald

Original Language
Persian/Farsi

Perplext no more with Human or Divine,
To-morrow's tangle to the winds resign,
And lose your fingers in the tresses of
The Cypress-slender Minister of Wine.

-- from The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, by Omar Khayyam / Translated by Edward FitzGerald

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Themes

Wine

Recommended Books

	The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, by Omar Khayyam / Translated by Edward FitzGerald
	The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, by Omar Khayyam / Translated by Peter Avery
	The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam (Illustrated Edition), by Omar Khayyam / Translated by Edward FitzGerald
	The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam Explained, by Paramhansa Yogananda / Edited by J. Donald Walters (Kriyananda)
	The Sufism of the Rubaiyat or the Secret of the Great Paradox, by Norton F. W. Hazeldine

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I like this quatrain by Omar Khayyam. It nicely intermingles the two great metaphors of Sufi poetry: wine and the Beloved.

To be "plagued no more with Human or Divine" is to no longer be tormented by the apparent (but false) separation between material reality and the Eternal. There is no longer the schizophrenic effort to leave one behind in order to discover the other. Both are revealed as one; the material and limited is recognized as simply an outpouring of the ineffable and unlimited.

"To-morrow's tangle to itself resign," parallels the saying of Jesus to let tomorrow worry about tomorrow. Khayyam is urging us to keep the awareness fixed firmly in the present, for that is were the Eternal resides. No matter how problematic or inevitable the future may seem, it is just a fantasy. The present moment is all that exists -- always.

And then the wonderful lines: "And lose your fingers in the tresses of / The Cypress-slender Minister of Wine." Wine, as I've pointed out repeatedly, is often used in sacred poetry not to represent alcohol but as a symbol for the sacred drink of bliss. Khayyam is exhorting us to utterly immerse ourselves in our love for the Divine One who delivers the blessed drink until we, our ego-selves, cease to exist in those perfumed "tresses."

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