1. I have become gentle, with a pure Arabian steed,
And the cup gives delight to the young man,

2. With a guide as if his cheeks
Were picked with anemones out of shyness,

3. In his lap an empty hollow flute
That is tied on a back vying with it in hump,

4. He extends a palm to it hitting
The necks of our sorrows when it hits them.

5. You think its pronunciation with its sister is a tune
And it bids farewell to the listeners whatever it deemed,

6. I said look at this wonder
That came with magic so it gave speech to wood

7. And coffee in a bottle you think it
A flame of lightning in the laden cloud,

8. As if time from its elapse
Deposited in the length of its age epochs,

9. Carnelian water when it wears foam
You think it a hollow pearl it gathered,

10. It intoxicates whoever smells it with its nectar
So what about the one who drinks it being saturated

11. With a musical yearning our souls
Crave, docilely drawn to it,

12. Made tuneful by its player’s touch
With its pierced zither,

13. It sends from its mouth through its nostrils
A breeze that has a tune like a reed flute

14. As if its eloquent melodies were
From the creaking of the gate of paradise acquired,