from bright to grey within a day

awake! for morning in the bowl of night
has flung the stone that puts the stars to flight;
and, lo! the hunter of the east has caught
the sultan's turret in a daze of light.

. . .

dreaming when dawn's left hand was in the sky
I heard a voice within the tavern cry,
"awake my little ones, and fill the cup
before life's liquor in its cup be dry"

(rubáiyát, from omar khayyám, translation by edward fitzgerald)