Rubaiyat Lyrics – Sharif, Rafael Lechowski

Rubaiyat Lyrics Meaning

[Verso 1: Rafael Lechowski]
This part kicks off with a reflection about how our minds often look back on the past with longing, but it’s just a trick of memory—we tend to romanticize what’s gone. What really matters is the present, the now, which is sacred. The artist is saying, let’s raise a glass, live fully, and let death catch us in the middle of truly living, not regretting.

Then he talks about being tired not from enjoying life, but from always judging it harshly. He honors that one beautiful moment or light that woke him from his own darkness, from being lost or numb. He encourages peace and patience, especially with yourself. There’s a powerful image—he says we are both thirst and the endless spring that quenches it. That speaks to how we carry both need and fulfillment inside us.

He opens up about not being perfect, even though he’s gifted with words. His words have hurt people, and he owns up to that. But he’s trying to heal. Lighting a flower, making a toast—these are his rituals for forgiveness and growth, taking a cue from thinkers like Omar Khayyam and Epicurus who celebrated life despite its pain.

There’s a contrast between how the world feeds anxiety and how life, at its core, is joyful. But most people don’t see that joy—they’re blind to it. So, when he feels lost, he goes back to those he loves. Because only love can guide us back when we drift off path.

He brushes aside society’s obsession with success and failure. To him, just being alive and present is the real win. He believes in acting kindly, chasing meaningful goals, and not putting things off for tomorrow. He still has strength, still has inner treasures to uncover. When asked if miracles exist, he says yes—just being alive is a miracle in itself.

Then he speaks to a search for something deep, something sacred. And finds it hidden in the little things—sharing bread with a brother, sunlight on a strange day. It’s a reminder that life’s wonders are often hiding in plain sight.

He’s stepped away from chasing the common dream, the crowd’s dream. Doing what you don’t love is a lie, he says. That’s why he puts his heart into every word he writes—it’s his family’s sustenance. Each grape of his harvest is cared for and blessed.

Fame, he warns, is foolish. It makes us proud for a moment, but then it fades, because nothing lasts except the morning. So have faith, and be thankful for everything that happens.

He calls out how wrong it is to think you deserve more than what you have. That kind of thinking means you expect something in return for everything you do. But true peace comes from wanting what you already have and being ready to welcome whatever comes next.

Finally, he says the dreams of a humble person always come true. He realizes, a bit late, how rich he is—not in money, but in life. He’s halfway through his miracle of living and plans to celebrate the rest of it.

[Estribillo: Rafael Lechowski & Sharif]
Here, they talk about coming from a mysterious, poetic place—the “blue night.” They see themselves as children of both beauty and struggle, of flowers and blood. They’ve known both darkness and light in life. The image of butterflies on a wire shows a delicate balance—they’re fragile, yet grounded. It’s about holding onto beauty and hope, even while living on the edge.

[Verso 2: Sharif]
Sharif starts by saying he might not know exactly where he’s going in life. The only thing he really asks for on this unpredictable road is love. He sees a kind of divine light in the eyes of the next generation, suggesting hope and legacy. Time, to him, is tricky—it reflects who we are but also puzzles us, and he’s still figuring it out.

He compares himself to Beethoven, with words that are alive and raw. He feels like he’s been drifting aimlessly since youth, like pollen blown by the wind. September, which often symbolizes change or endings, brings its own pain. Yet, even in love, he clings to hope, writing promises that might not last, but still come from the heart.

He’s grown up under life’s hard rains, learning to hold in pain, learning resilience. He talks about his tough upbringing, where beauty didn’t grow, but still, life rushed on like wild horses.

Now that he’s older and has followed his own path, he sees more clearly what the universe had in store for him. Time keeps passing, taking pieces of him, but it hasn’t broken his spirit.

He stands by his values—he won’t sell his dignity. His mind is always singing, and his words are both soothing and strong. He makes it clear—this isn’t just a song; it’s his way of surviving, of feeding his soul under distant suns.

He remembers to honor his scars, because the streets where he got hurt are also where he found joy. He and Rafael are like two parts of the same whole—one the flower, one the root, the wisdom of a teacher and the passion of a learner.