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Omar Khayyám (für 3 Solostimmen, gemischten Chor und Orchester)
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Wake! For the sun, who scatteres into flight
00:02:08
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Before the phantom of false morning died
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And as the cock crew, those who stood before
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Now the new year reviving old desires
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Iram indeed is gone with all his rose
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Whether at Naishápúr or Babylon
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Each morn a thousand roses brings, you say
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With me along the strip of herbage strown
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Some for the glories of this world, and some
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Look to the blowing Rose about us
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Think, in this battered caravanserei
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I sometimes think that never blows so red
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Ah, my Beloved, fill the cup that clears
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Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend
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Alike for those who for To-day prepare
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Myself when young did eagerly frequent
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What, without asking, hither hurried Whence?
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Up from earth's centre through the seventh gate
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Earth could not aswer, nor the seas that mourn
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Then of the Thee In Me who works behind
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Then to the lip of this poor earthern urn
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I think the vessel, that with fugitive
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1
As then the tulip for her morning sup
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So when that angel of the darker drink
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Tis but a tent where takes his one day's rest
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When you an I behind the veil are past
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A moment's halt - a monumentary taste -
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Would you that spangle of existence spend
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A moment guessed - then back behind the fold
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Waste not your hour, nor in the vain pursuit
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Better be jocund with the fruitful grape
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You know, my friends, with what a brave carouse (2. Teil)
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Ah, but my computations, people say
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And 'twas - the Grape!
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The Grape that can with logic absolute
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The mighty Mahmúd, Allah-breathing Lord
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Why, be this Juice the growth of God, who dare
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I must abjure the balm of life, I must
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The revelations of devout and learn'd
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We are no other than a moving row
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The moving finger writes, and, having writ
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And that invertes bowl we call the sky
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With earth's first clay they did the las man knead
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I tell you this - When, started from the goal
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What! out of senseless nothing to provoke
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Oh thou, who didst with pitfall and with gin
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Oh thou, who man of base earth didst make
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1
The fast of Ramazán (3. Teil)
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Worshipper in the Mosque
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As under cover of departing day
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Shapes of all sorts and sizes, great and small
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Said one among them - Surely not in vain
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So while the vessels one by one were speaking
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Ah, with the grape my fasing life provide
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Indeed the idol I have loved so long
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And much as wine has play'd the infide!
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Yet ah, that spring should vanish with the rose
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Would but the desert of the fountain yield
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Yon rising moon that looks for us again
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And when like her, oh Sáki, you shall pass
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