Estamos solos otra vez y siempre, como en el principio

 
       Cuando escuchamos o vemos tanta cruel propaganda,tanta imbecilidad paga sobre sobre Oriente, tanto desprecio y prejuicio sobre su historia, tanta mentira americana sobre ellos, tanto impune latrocinio, pienso en Khayyam. Nunca muerto, tan esencialmente Humano y actual.
       Tan poeta, trnsgresor y lúcido…
 

Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 The caravan of life shall always pass
Beware that is fresh as sweet young grass
Let’s not worry about what tomorrow will amass
Fill my cup again, this night will pass, alas.
 
 
 

This Old World we’ve named Cosmos by mistake
Is the graveyard of nights & days, no more awake
And a feast that hundred Jamshid’s did break
And a throne that hundred Bahram’s did make.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 " ¿Qué vale más? ¿Examinar nuestra conciencia sentados en una taberna
o posternarnos en una mezquita con el alma ausente?
No me preocupa saber si tenemos un Dios ni el destino que nos reserva.

Procede en forma tal que tu prójimo no se sienta humillado con tu sabiduría.
Domínate, domínate. Jamás te abandones a la ira.
Si quieres conquistar la paz definitiva,
sonríe al Destino que se ensaña contigo y nunca te ensañes con nadie.

Puesto que ignoras lo que te reserva el mañana, esfuérzate por ser feliz hoy.
Toma un cántaro de vino, siéntate a la luz de la luna
y bebe pensando en que mañana quizá la luna te busque inútilmente.

Más allá de los límites de la Tierra, más allá del límite Infinito,
buscaba yo el Cielo y el Infierno.
Pero una voz severa me advirtió: "El Cielo y el Infierno están en ti.

El mundo inabarcable: Un grano de polvo en el espacio.
Toda la ciencia del hombre: Las palabras.
Los pueblos, las bestias y las flores de siete climas son sombras.
La Nada es el fruto de tu constante meditación.

La vida no es más que un juego monótono en el que con certeza encontrarás dos premios:
El dolor y la muerte. ¡Feliz el niño que murió al poco de nacer!
¡Más feliz aún aquel que no tocó el mundo!

En la feria que atraviesas, no procures encontrar algún amigo.
Tampoco busques sólido refugio.
Con ánimo valiente, acepta el dolor sin la esperanza de un remedio inexistente.
Sonríe ante la desgracia y no le pidas a nadie que te sonría: perderás el tiempo.

Imposible observar el cielo.¡Llevo en los ojos un cendal de lágrimas!
Gráciles chispas son las hogueras del Infierno frente a las llamas que me consumen.
El Paraíso para mí, no es más que un instante de paz.

Mi nacimiento no trajo ningún bien al mundo.
Mi muerte no disminuirá ni su esplendor ni su grandeza.
Nadie pudo jamás explicarme para que he venido, ni por qué he venido ni por qué me iré.

En el vértigo de la vida sólo son felices los que presumen de sabios y los que no tratan de educarse.
Me incliné sobre todos los secretos del Cosmos
y retorné a la soledad envidiando a los ciegos que hallé por el camino.

Cuando muera habrán muerto las rosas, los cipreses, los sabios bermejos y el vino perfumado.
No habrá más albas ni crepúsculos, ni penas ni alegrías. El mundo habrá dejado de existir.
El mundo es real; sólo en función del pensamiento. "

 

 

 

 

 

 

In childhood we strove to go to school,
Our turn to teach, joyous as a rule
The end of the story is sad and cruel
                    From dust we came, and gone with winds cool.
 
 
 
      
 At dawn came a calling from the tavern
Hark drunken mad man of the cavern
Arise; let us fill with wine one more turn
Before destiny fills our cup, our urn.

 

Heaven is incomplete without a heavenly romance
Let a glass of wine be my present circumstance
Take what is here now, let go of a promised chance
A drumbeat is best heard from a distance.

   

Omar Khayyam
(Irán, 1050-1122)

  Matemático y astrónomo persa, autor de uno de los poemas más famosos del mundo. Nació en Nishapur (actual Irán). Su nombre significa ‘Omar el tendero’. Como astrónomo de la corte, participó con otros científicos en la reforma del calendario; a partir de entonces se adoptó una nueva era, conocida como jalaliana o el Seliuk. Como escritor de álgebra, geometría y temas afines, Omar fue uno de los más destacados matemáticos de su época. Sin embargo, es conocido ante todo por el poema Rubaiyat, del que se le atribuyen unas 1.000 estrofas epigramáticas de cuatro versos que hablan de la naturaleza y el ser humano.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

Birth:

Date: 1048 CE
Place: Nishapur, Persia (Iran
)

 

Abu ol-Fath ebn-Ebrahim ‘Omar ol-Khayyami of Nishapur

Khayyam means "tent maker"

Work:

Mathematician
Scientist
Astronomer
Philosopher
Poet

 

Omar Khayyam was born at Naishapur in Khorassan in the latter half of our Eleventh, and died within the First Quarter of our Twelfth Century. The Slender Story of his Life is curiously twined about that of two other very considerable Figures in their Time and Country: one of whom tells the Story of all Three. This was Nizam ul Mulk, Vizier to Alp Arslan the Son, and Malik Shah the Grandson, of Toghrul Beg the Tartar, who had wrested Persia from the feeble Successor of Mahmud the Great, and founded that Seljukian Dynasty which finally roused Europe into the Crusades. This Nizam ul Mulk, in his Wasiyat–or Testament–which he wrote and left as a Memorial for future Statesmen–relates the following, as quoted in the Calcutta Review, No. 59, from Mirkhond’s History of the Assassins.

"’One of the greatest of the wise men of Khorassan was the Imam Mowaffak of Naishapur, a man highly honored and reverenced,–may God rejoice his soul; his illustrious years exceeded eighty-five, and it was the universal belief that every boy who read the Koran or studied the traditions in his presence, would assuredly attain to honor and happiness. For this cause did my father send me from Tus to Naishapur with Abd-us-samad, the doctor of law, that I might employ myself in study and learning under the guidance of that illustrious teacher. Towards me he ever turned an eye of favor and kindness, and as his pupil I felt for him extreme affection and devotion, so that I passed four years in his service. When I first came there, I found two other pupils of mine own age newly arrived, Hakim Omar Khayyam, and the ill-fated Ben Sabbah. Both were endowed with sharpness of wit and the highest natural powers; and we three formed a close friendship together. When the Imam rose from his lectures, they used to join me, and we repeated to each other the lessons we had heard. Now Omar was a native of Naishapur, while Hasan Ben Sabbah’s father was one Ali,  a man of austere life and practise, but heretical in his creed and doctrine. One day Hasan said to me and to Khayyam, "It is a universal belief that the pupils of the Imam Mowaffak will attain to fortune. Now, even if we all do not attain thereto, without doubt one of us will; what then shall be our mutual pledge and bond?" We answered, "Be it what you please." "Well," he said, "let us make a vow, that to whomsoever this fortune falls, he shall share it equally with the rest, and reserve no pre-eminence for himself." "Be it so," we both replied, and on those terms we mutually pledged our words. Years rolled on, and I went from Khorassan to Transoxiana, and wandered to Ghazni and Cabul; and when I returned, I was invested with office, and rose to be administrator of affairs during the Sultanate of Sultan Alp Arslan.’

"He goes on to state, that years passed by, and both his old school-friends found him out, and came and claimed a share in his good fortune, according to the school-day vow. The Vizier was generous and kept his word. Hasan demanded a place in the government, which the Sultan granted at the Vizier’s request; but discontented with a gradual rise, he plunged into the maze of intrigue of an oriental court, and, failing in a base attempt to supplant his benefactor, he was disgraced and fell. After many mishaps and wanderings, Hasan became the head of the Persian sect of the Ismailians,  a party of fanatics who had long murmured in obscurity, but rose to an evil eminence under the guidance of his strong and evil will. In A.D. 1090, he seized the castle of Alamut, in the province of Rudbar, which lies in the mountainous tract south of the Caspian Sea; and it was from this mountain home he obtained that evil celebrity among the Crusaders as the OLD MAN OF THE MOUNTAINS, and spread terror through the Mohammedan world; and it is yet disputed where the word Assassin, which they have left in the language of modern Europe as their dark memorial, is derived from the hashish, or opiate of hemp-leaves (the Indian bhang), with which they maddened themselves to the sullen pitch of oriental desperation, or from the name of the founder of the dynasty, whom we have seen in his quiet collegiate days, at Naishapur. One of the countless victims of the Assassin’s dagger was Nizam ul Mulk himself, the old school-boy friend

"Omar Khayyam also came to the Vizier to claim his share; but not to ask for title or office. ‘The greatest boon you can confer on me,’ he said, ‘is to let me live in a corner under the shadow of your fortune, to spread wide the advantages of Science, and pray for your long life and prosperity.’ The Vizier tells us, that when he found Omar was really sincere in his refusal, he pressed him no further, but granted him a yearly pension of 1200 mithkals of gold from the treasury of Naishapur.

"At Naishapur thus lived and died Omar Khayyam, ‘busied,’ adds the Vizier, ‘in winning knowledge of every kind, and especially in Astronomy, wherein he attained to a very high pre-eminence. Under the Sultanate of Malik Shah, he came to Merv, and obtained great praise for his proficiency in science, and the Sultan showered favors upon him.’

"When the Malik Shah determined to reform the calendar, Omar was one of the eight learned men employed to do it; the result was the Jalali era (so called from Jalal-ud-din, one of the king’s names)–‘a computation of time,’ says Gibbon, ‘which surpasses the Julian, and approaches the accuracy of the Gregorian style.’ He is also the author of some astronomical tables, entitled ‘Ziji-Malikshahi,’ and the French have lately republished and translated an Arabic Treatise of his on Algebra.

"His Takhallus or poetical name (Khayyam) signifies a Tent-maker, and he is said to have at one time exercised that trade, perhaps before Nizam-ul-Mulk’s generosity raised him to independence. Many Persian poets similarly derive their names from their occupations; thus we have Attar, ‘a druggist,’ Assar, ‘an oil presser,’ etc Omar himself alludes to his name in the following whimsical lines:–

"’Khayyam, who stitched the tents of science,
Has fallen in grief’s furnace and been suddenly burned;
The shears of Fate have cut the tent ropes of his life,
And the broker of Hope has sold him for nothing!’

"We have only one more anecdote to give of his Life, and that relates to the close; it is told in the anonymous preface which is sometimes prefixed to his poems; it has been printed in the Persian in the Appendix to Hyde’s Veterum Persarum Religio, p. 499; and D’Herbelot alludes to it in his Bibliotheque, under Khiam.

"’It is written in the chronicles of the ancients that this King of the Wise, Omar Khayyam, died at Naishapur in the year of the Hegira, 517 (A.D. 1123); in science he was unrivaled,–the very paragon of his age. Khwajah Nizami of Samarcand, who was one of his pupils, relates the following story: "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."

Thus far–without fear of Trespass–from the Calcutta Review. The writer of it, on reading in India this story of Omar’s Grave, was reminded, he says, of Cicero’s Account of finding Archimedes’ Tomb at Syracuse, buried in grass and weeds. I think Thorwaldsen desired to have roses grow over him; a wish religiously fulfilled for him to the present day, I believe. However, to return to Omar.

Though the Sultan "shower’d Favors upon him," Omar’s Epicurean Audacity of Thought and Speech caused him to be regarded askance in his own Time and Country. He is said to have been especially hated and dreaded by the Sufis, whose Practise he ridiculed, and whose Faith amounts to little more than his own, when stript of the Mysticism and formal recognition of Islamism under which Omar would not hide. Their Poets, including Hafiz, who are (with the exception of Firdausi) the most considerable in Persia, borrowed largely, indeed, of Omar’s material, but turning it to a mystical Use more convenient to Themselves and the People they addressed; a People quite as quick of Doubt as of Belief; as keen of Bodily sense as of Intellectual; and delighting in a cloudy composition of both, in which they could float luxuriously between Heaven and Earth, and this World and the Next, on the wings of a poetical expression, that might serve indifferently for either. Omar was too honest of Heart as well of Head for this. Having failed (however mistakenly) of finding any Providence but Destiny, and any World but This, he set about making the most of it; preferring rather to soothe the Soul through the Senses into Acquiescence with Things as he saw them, than to perplex it with vain disquietude after what they might be. It has been seen, however, that his Worldly Ambition was not exorbitant; and he very likely takes a humorous or perverse pleasure in exalting the gratification of Sense above that of the Intellect, in which he must have taken great delight, although it failed to answer the Questions in which he, in common with all men, was most vitally interested.

For whatever Reason, however, Omar as before said, has never been popular in his own Country, and therefore has been but scantily transmitted abroad. The MSS. of his Poems, mutilated beyond the average Casualties of Oriental Transcription, are so rare in the East as scarce to have reacht Westward at all, in spite of all the acquisitions of Arms and Science. There is no copy at the India House, none at the Bibliotheque Nationale of Paris. We know but of one in England: No. 140 of the Ouseley MSS. at the Bodleian, written at Shiraz, A.D. 1460. This contains but 158 Rubaiyat. One in the Asiatic Society’s Library at Calcutta (of which we have a Copy), contains (and yet incomplete) 516, though swelled to that by all kinds of Repetition and Corruption. So Von Hammer speaks of his Copy as containing about 200, while Dr. Sprenger catalogues the Lucknow MS. at double that number. The Scribes, too, of the Oxford and Calcutta MSS. seem to do their Work under a sort of Protest; each beginning with a Tetrastich (whether genuine or not), taken out of its alphabetical order; the Oxford with one of Apology; the Calcutta with one of Expostulation, supposed (says a Notice prefixed to the MS.) to have arisen from a Dream, in which Omar’s mother asked about his future fate. It may be rendered thus:–

"O Thou who burn’st in Heart for those who burn
In Hell, whose fires thyself shall feed in turn,
How long be crying, ‘Mercy on them, God!’
Why, who art Thou to teach, and He to learn?"

The Bodleian Quatrain pleads Pantheism by way of Justification.

"If I myself upon a looser Creed
Have loosely strung the Jewel of Good deed,
Let this one thing for my Atonement plead:
That One for Two I never did misread."

       

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