Mortality – Omar Khayyam

For some we loved, the loveliest and best
That from His rolling vintage Time has pressed,
Have drunk their glass a round or two before,
And one by one crept silently to rest

But helpless pieces in the game He plays
Upon this chequer-board of Nights and Days
He hither and thither moves, and checks … and slays
Then one by one, back in the Closet lays

“The Moving Finger writes: and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.

Quatrain XI in his 1st edition (1868?), Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, translated by Edward Fitzgerald

Oh threats of Hell and Hopes of Paradise!

One thing at least is certain—This Life flies:

One thing is certain and the rest is lies;

The Flower that once has blown for ever dies.

Stanza 63, 1889 ed.

Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, translated by Edward Fitzgerald