Rubaiyat

To be read carefully and in the light of our tumultuous days, reading between the lines in search of the spirit revealing an interpretation.

TRANSITORINESS

Let me have but a lonely spot, where I Could spend the lovely time of spring-and

lie

On grass in joy with wine and with a belleAnd I would then all Sultan's pomp defy.

With book in hand, reclining 'neath a bough,
A jug of wine, a half a loaf and thou
Beside me, singing songs of love divine,
Turns deserts into paradise enow.

A budding rose spoke laughingly to me: "I am the Yusuf-flower; come and see My golden gems!" And ere I said, "Give proof,"

She turned her blood-stained bloom for me to see.

Take wine-do not succumb to mortal pain; Misers alone hide their ill-gotten gain. Don't chain ill health; you're not a lump of gold

To hope, when dead, to be dug up again.

Your hope is nothing else but vanity,
Your weal and woe are but inconstancy;
Think! As the snow-deck'd ground melts in
one night,

E'en so fades hope into eternity.

Where once the Jamshyds loved to troll the bowl,

Now stags, as well as lions, like to stroll, And Bahram, who wild asses snared, was snared

Himself—and paid with death his final toll.

Where 'er you see a rose or tulip-redBe sure that here some Sultan's blood was shed,

But where you see a harmless lily-whiteBe sure, it was a damsel's handsome head.

The light-green turf that grows near-by the stream

Sprang up from lily's lips, just like a dream; Beware then, lest your feet might trample on The dust, where cheeks shone like a sunny beam.

Came, Saki, fill the cup with once shed tears. Think not today, nor of the future fears! Tomorrow, when we die, we'll meet some friends

Who've gone before, these seven thousand

years.

Some strove for happiness, for joy and weal,
Rejoiced in ruby-wine at every meal;
But now they're gone, their fate was death,
their rest

A place on which the gravestone is the seal.

Pass thru the world with happiness, and may Your peace be found in ruby ev'ry day! This green, that others left, is now our sward,

But who will sit upon our dusty clay?

My life is short, it lasts one day or two;
It passes like the fleeting wind-how true!
For that I take no heed of those two days;
The day that's past, or that's tomorrow due.

Once was this pitcher here quite hotly chased By some sweetheart with curly head, sweet

faced;

The handle of the pitcher's side was once

An arm that clung around the lover's waist.

As fall the tears from Heaven's clouded face, So fall the drops from Vine, my mind to

brace;

As now sweet flowers give delight to me, So shall my dust some fairy's bosom grace.

* *

This world seems like a caravansary,
A pilgrim's home, or vale of misery;
A feast, a joy for Jamshyds and their clique—
A tomb, a rest for Bahrams, you and me.

(To be Continued in Next Issue)

Breath and Diet

By Dr. B. G. Kester

LET US BE SCIENTIFIC

Lest we be overtaken in our ignorance by the spirit of the times and, like the five foolish virgins, find ourselves at the last moment without oil, it behooves us to seek with renewed earnestness an answer to the most vital of all questions: "What must I do to

be saved?"

Without the light of understanding in our hearts, we may ever implore others to give us of their oil, only to find that there is not enuf. To our sorrow and dismay we have neglected to see to it that our lamps were filled.

More forceful utterances than the parables of our Blessed Savior were never spoken, and none so little understood even to this day. To give the scientific principles of life was His mission, to enlighten those who had been caught in ignorance and the dogmatic superstition of His time. Just a few there were who understood and were able to apply the teachings to some degree. To those few what did He say? Did He say, "Your salvation depends upon your religious organization"? or, "The state and the law will keep you in