Calcutta nr. 95
This battered caravanserai whose name is the world
Is the resting place of night and day
It is a pavilion that is the resting place of an hundred Jamshyds
It is a palace that is the resting place of an hundred Bahrams.
Think, in this batter'd Caravanserai
Whose Portals are alternate Night and Day,
How Sultán after Sultán with his Pomp
Abode his destined Hour, and went his way.
They say the Lion and the Lizard keep
The Courts where Jamshyd gloried and drank deep:
And Bahrám, that great Hunter--the Wild Ass
Stamps o'er his Head, but cannot break his Sleep.
This worn caravanserai which is called the world
Is the resting-place of the piebald horse of night and day;
It is a pavilion which has been abandoned by an hundred Jamshyds;
It is a palace that is the resting-place of an hundred Bahráms.
Ce vieux caravansérail que l'on nomme le monde, ce séjour alternatif de la lumière et des ténèbres, n'est qu'un reste de festin de cent potentats comme Djèmehid. Ce n'est qu'une tombe servant d'oreiller à cent monarques comme Bèhram.
This time-eaten inn, that by name the world hight is,
That the twy-coloured bostel of Day and of Night is,
The remains of a feast for an hundred Jems dight is,
A tomb that hath lodged many Behrams of might is.
The world 't is called, this ancient hostelry,
The piebald resting place of Night and Day,
The banquet by a hundred Jamsheds left,
The tomb wherein a hundred Bahrams lay.