1. Leave the ruins for the south wind to mock
And time to erase the covenant of its masters.

2. Leave the rider of the she-camel a land
Where the noble and the ignoble sink.

3. A land whose plants are colocynth and tamarisk,
And whose game is for the most part hyena and wolf.

4. Take no pleasure from the Bedouins,
For their living is harsh.

5. Leave the milk for men of easy life to drink,
Strange among them is he of noble stock.

6. When the milk turns sour, pour it out
And feel no regret, for that is no disgrace.

7. Sweeter than it is date wine brought by a slender hand,
Borne in a goblet by one graceful and adroit.

8. It boiled for an age at the bottom of a vat,
Seething, though no fire was lit beneath it.

9. Its bubbling in the vat sounds like
The murmur of monks faced by the crucifix.

10. The hand of a slender lad presents it to you,
Rich as perfumed grape-juice.

11. The arts of his singing nurse nurtured him until
He was succulent with grace and delight.

12. He leads the halter for you when you race it
And the knot of his girdle comes undone.

13. When I tease him, you steal from him
Wiles to ensnare hearts and beguile minds.

14. He sways under his saddle, and when he trots
His whip bends into ringlets.

15. He nearly swoons from coquetry when he bends
Toward you, melting from the falling of his curls.

16. More foolish than a maid glimpsed from afar
When her glances are clouded by a spy.

17. My censurers, stop blaming me in part,
For I have lost hope of repenting before you.

18. You blame me for sins—and what free man
Among the youths is without sins?

19. This life is not the tents of the desert folk
Nor the sweet milk to drink.

20. Where are the Bedouins from Chosroes' palace
And the race-course with its flown dust?

21. You tricked me with talk of repenting, but plunged ahead
And so my lot today is—I shall never repent.