Omer Khayyam is the reason why I love wine so deeply. Drinking wine is not a joke. It is a serious pleasure of mine. Since I first read his Rubaiyat in high school, one of my favorite things to do is to get drunk on wine, lay in the grass on a sunny day, think of nothing in particular but how lucky I am here to be existing only briefly...
Khayyam was a true polymath, so his poems often carry a kind of scientific clarity beneath, which is why I never take them lightly.

The lyrics of Mehmet Güreli’s ‘’Kimse Bilmez’ are actually a mix of three of Khayyam quatrains:

My translation of the lyrics:

“The cloud drifted past,
its tears were left upon the grass.
On such a day as this
how could we not drink wine the color of roses?
The dawn wind rises tears the silken hem of the rose;
the nightingale’s heart quivers
each time its eyes return to it.
These starry skies... when did they start turning?
No one knows —no one knows."

Here is the verbatim 1883 translation of The Quatrains of Omar Khayyam, that inspired the song, translated by E. H. Whinfield.

Whinfield no. 329
The morning breeze tears up the rose’s veil,
The nightingale laments her woeful tale;
Drink wine! for many a flower is born, and dies,
Brief joy to mortals granted — why bewail?

Whinfield no. 331
When first the stars began their heavenward flight,
Or ever earth emerged from chaos’ night,
One fated hour there was, and only one,
Appointed for our being — and our plight.
(Note: In some later printings this appears with small wording differences, e.g., “first the sky began its circling flight.”)

Whinfield no. 361
The clouds that wept their fill are gone away,
The meadow laughs bedecked with gems of May;
Come, let us drink — for who can tell who next
Shall tread upon the turf whereon we lay?