1. I am not forgetful, though no more a youth,
When youth itself was once my very dress.

2. Though fate has caused me grief and spread me wide,
Sporting, like speech, along the paper's edge,

3. I have not whitened through the length of years,
But long reproach of you has whitened my head.

4. My tears crept over what lay in my heart,
And sadness followed on my quickened breath.

5. Truly I drank the cup from Abū Hawl's hand,
Shaking and swaying like a reed in the wind.

6. She circled among us, white as a flash of lightning,
Her cushions scented through the wine's bouquet.

7. Wine and magic mixed with the dew's pure draughts
From your cup's favor, O Abū al-ʿAbbās!

8. Why should I not drink the dew of your wine, O son of Muhammad,
Since the wine of al-Kinda is not my habit?

9. The beauty of your nature has dyed creation with its light,
My silvery idol, not the black deeds of slaves.

10. Forever the trembling of your wine reminds me
Of the movements of a slim shoot in storms.

11. Happy, nothing is, but what the lofty ones build,
Beginning with your forebears among mankind.

12. To you, House of the Emigrants, have emigrated
The beauties of all noble qualities from all men.

13. Your father is eternal honor, your deeds
A halt where the wine and all mankind pause.