1. Who blames me for loving a drinking-vessel and speaking of it,
Has met with what I met when the steed urged on its rider.

2. Blessed the drinking-vessel, when the horses have turned their backs,
And the dust whirls up amid the hollows and the hillocks.

3. Fair the young man who repairs to the light of its fire,
Kuweiz son of Sakhra on a night of wind and gloom.

4. When the timid wild cows take refuge in its folds,
And the mountain-goats take refuge, crowding up the winding paths.

5. Though the best of men and their gifts have failed me,
With the palms of a lad who knows no meanness or denial.