1. I am a drinker of the limpid winds,
And a rider of the restless desert steeds.

2. For every man's soul in the end
Has paradise or hell for its abode.

3. So drink over the cheek of the slender one,
Where beauty lies nestled like spikenard buds.

4. It seems as though the evil Harut's eye
Has by sorcery in her glances laboured.

5. The wine cup's stroke on his cheek
Has caused beauty to flow up and sparkle there.