This is in the style of Fitzgerald's Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám. It's nowhere near as long as the original; still, Omar did tend to labor his points a bit. In any case, I hope you enjoy it.

The Rubáiyát of Hayasaka Erika

Sleep! For while the night-lit City's Haze
Has washed away the distant stellar Blaze,
The creeping Sun in silent Ambush bides
Some Hours yet beneath the eastern Waves.

For in the saddest Hour of the Night
Will come Uzume, dancing in delight,
To tempt Amaterasu forth again,
And drive away the Dark with Spears of Light!

Then Innocence and Strength again appear
Within one slender Frame, imbibing Beer,
And through your Eyes such Wonders will unfold,
That send you raving forth of Pho3s and Ph34r.

Yet walk awhile in Dreams with me beside
This Estuary, swelling with the Tide
That briefly stems the River in its Flow
Ere, following the Ebb, it seaward glides.

My closest Friend and I did both agree
That Real Life never matches Fantasy,
And she said, "Find what Happiness you can",
But I have answered, "Real Life makes you bleed."

And what else is it Happiness should seem
But an evanescent flooding of Life's Stream?
For all too soon the Waters drain away
To muddy Banks, and Nothing left to gleam.

Now turn our dreaming Steps upon the Strand,
To where the Ocean laps the dampened Sand,
And feel the chilly Waves dash past our Feet,
And walk with me through Darkness, Hand-in-Hand.

Here Beauty is a gleaming Foam that floats
On blackened Breakers, black as vanished Hopes,
That fly to fragments when they strike the shore,
With Roars as from a thousand anguished Throats.

The Sea has wrapped this World through all of Time;
Such self-sufficient Strength I wish were mine,
It offers many Lives a Place to bide,
But needs no Help nor Aid of any kind.

I took an Oath some time ago that I
Would never, for my my own Defense, rely
On any Powers save my very own,
Or give Another leave to run my life.

So out upon the fitful Waves I go,
Drifting high above, then drifting low,
Each Victory or Loss - it ends the same,
For win or lose, with Each more tired I grow.

I drive against the Storms, come East or West,
I fight my Battles 'till there's Nothing left;
Though Triumph's sweet, the Glory enervates
Until, at last, I slip into the Depths.

I hold my Friends at arm's-length with my Gifts,
And never let them bridge the jagged Rift,
I help them as I can, but when it's done,
I hide myself within the rainy Mists.

But in my Life, Confusion's taken Wing,
Just recently I've needed Comforting,
And though I've lost Control, I come to find,
Some Chaos may not be so bad a Thing.

Now You and I have wandered very long;
The eastern Sky is streaked with trails of Dawn.
Our dreaming selves must wander home to Bed,
'Til Daylight wakes us with the Morning's Song.

Tamám

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