Khayamisms

Of science much remains I'll never know
And secrets left which ever will be so
So many books I searched both high and low
And studied long to learn the naught I know.

Then come, blest lady and your arm entwine
about my arm, and press your lips to mine,
and laugh with me to see our world decline
and share with me the taste of summer wine.

The now that's here will fade into the now that's past
and merge with other has-been nows; that vast
compendium of moments that we knew would never last
and to the rubbish-heap of private memory cast.

We clung tight: and in that instant, would have died
and melted, and to entropy our flesh supplied
while in our minds we let eternal love reside.
The moment lingered, sweeping with the tide.

In all our dispensations, Lord
we two were faithful and we kept our word
and were together and our treasure stored
we always loved much more than could afford.

So come, my dear, again your arm entwine
about my arm, again your lips to mine
and laugh again with me if you incline
to share some more of this delicious wine.

© 2026 Jurek Kirakowski