For in the Market-place, one Dusk of Day,
I watch'd the Potter thumping his wet Clay:
And with its all obliterated Tongue
It murmur'd -- "Gently, Brother, gently, pray!"
[tr. FitzGerald, 1st ed. (1859), # 36]

For I remember stopping by the way
To watch a Potter thumping his wet Clay:
And with its all-obliterated Tongue
It murmur'd -- "Gently, Brother, gently, pray!"
[tr. FitzGerald, 2nd ed. (1868), # 40; 4th ed. (1879), # 37; 5th ed. (1889), # 37]

For I remember stopping by the way
To watch a Potter thumping his wet Clay,
And with its all-obliterated Tongue
It murmur'd -- "Gently, Brother, gently, pray?"
[tr. FitzGerald, 3rd ed. (1872), # 37]

Yesterday I beheld at the bazaar a potter smiting with all his force the clay he was kneading. The earth seemed to cry out to him, "I also was such as thou -- treat me therefore less harshly."
[tr. McCarthy (1879), # 245]

I saw a busy potter by the way
Kneading with might and main a lump of clay;
And, lo! the clay cried, "Use me gently, pray,
I was a man myself but yesterday!"
[tr. Whinfield (1883), # 252]

I saw a Potter at his Work to-day,
With rudest Hand he shaped his yielding Clay,
"Oh gently Brother, do not treat me thus,
I too, was once a Man," I heard it say.
[tr. Garner (1887), 7.9]

I saw a potter at his work to-day,
Shaping with rudest hand his whirling clay, --
"Ah, gently, brother, do not treat me thus,
I too was once a man," I heard it say.
[tr. Garner (1898), # 57]

A potter I saw in the market yesterday
With many a buffet belabour a lump of clay.
The which, with the tongue of the case, "Thy like I've been;
Have some regard for me, prithee!" to him did say.
[tr. Payne (1898), # 434]

I saw a potter in the bazaar yesterday,
he was violently pounding the fresh clay,
and that clay said to him, in mystic language,
"I was once like thee -- so treat me well."
[tr. Heron-Allen (1898), # 89]

In the bazaar, I saw but yesterday
A potter hitting hard at his wet clay;
And it, as best it could, cried out; "Let be;
"I was as thou art once, be good to me."
[tr. Cadell (1899), # 93]

In the Bazaar I saw but yesterday
A potter pounding hard a lump of clay;
The clay cried out to him in mystic tones,
"I once was like thee, treat me gently, pray!"
[tr. Thompson (1906), # 295]

In the Bazaar I saw, but yesterday,
A potter rudely pounding the fresh clay;
The clay in mystic language made complaint --
"I too was once like thee: thy hand then stay!"
[tr. Talbot (1908), # 89]

Yesterday I saw a potter in the bazar. He beat the
fresh clay with many strokes,
and that clay said to him in its own language: "Once
I was [a being] like thee; so treat me gently."
[tr. Christensen (1927), # 68]

Yesterday I saw a potter in the market-place
Trampling down fresh clay with many a kick.
And this clay seemed to say to him:
"I was as you; deal gently with me."
[tr. Rosen (1928), # 161]

I saw a potter working in the mart,
He kicked a clod of earth which made it smart;
I heard the clay beseach him: "Master! please!
Like thee I once have been, be kind at heart."
[tr. Tirtha (1941), # 5.28]

And look -- a thousand Blossoms with the Day
Woke -- and a thousand scatter'd into Clay
[tr. FitzGerald, 1st ed. (1859), # 8]

Morning a thousand Roses brings, you say;
Yes, but where leaves the Rose of yesterday?
[tr. FitzGerald, 2nd Ed (1868), # 9]

Each Morn a thousand Roses brings, you say:
Yes, but where leaves the Rose of Yesterday?
[tr. FitzGerald, 3rd ed. (1872), # 9; same in later editions]

Sit in the shade of the rose, for many times this rose from earth has come, and unto earth has gone.
[tr. McCarthy (1879), # 463]

Sit we beneath this rose, which many a time
Has sunk to earth, and sprung from earth again.
[tr. Whinfield (1883), # 414]

Sit in the shade of the rose, for, by the wind, many roses
have been scattered to earth and have become dust.
[tr. Heron-Allen (1898), # 135]

Sit we 'neath this rose shade, for many a rose
Wind strewn in earth has turned to earth again!
[tr. Thompson (1906), # 522]

Sit in her fragrant bower, for oft the wind
Hath strewn and turn'd to dust such flowers as these.
[tr. Talbot (1908), # 135]

Rest in the shadow of the rose, for many of its leaves will the rose
Shed on the earth while we lie under the earth.
[tr. Rosen (1928), # 270]

Stay, Dearest One! beneath the rosy shade,
The roses bloom for Thee but soon would blight.
[tr. Tirtha (1941), # 3.7]

Rest in the rose's shade, though winds have burst
A world of blossoml petals fall to dust --
[tr. Graves & Ali-Shah (1967), # 74, ll. 1-2]

Sit in the rose's shadow, for oftentimes this rose shall spill upon the dust, when we are dust.
[tr. Bowen (1976), # 5a]

The Rosetree spills her petals in the dust,
And nothing of her fragrant harvest saves;
And yet this Rose, a plaything of the breeze,
Will bloom each year when we are in our graves.
[tr. Bowen (1976), # 5b]