1. Turn the wine-cup around, for the breeze makes it bubble,
And the meadow is watered by clouds, so it drinks,

2. The dawn has now cast off its veil, that it might see
The face of the gloom at sunrise, how it is unveiled,

3. The air is silvery white, but it is embroidered
By lightning with a gilt trim.

4. The branches are strung with flowers,
And the stringing of what cannot be pierced is a wonder.

5. The rose - from the sun of daybreak upon its cheek
Is a blush, while the mouth of the narcissus is sullen,

6. The branch - the morning breeze bends it, so it's as if
It's a youth with hands of morning zephyrs playing on it.

7. The cock crows at dawn, a muezzin,
While the birds in the trellises' varieties court.

8. Drink the cup of respite in its taverns
Where the young men are pure, so the wine is pure.

9. The tavern is a meadow, the cupbearers are blossoms,
The wine is a sun, the bottle a planet,

10. In the mouth it sets, but through the cheeks'
Radiance it does not set.

11. Pale yellow in the cups, but in the cheeks
A red fire flames.

12. Pale yellow, it battled misfortunes. Don't you see
Its cups dyed with the blood of sorrows?

13. Strange, like fire, except that it
Is not extinguished with water but flares.

14. From the palm of the smooth-cheeked cupbearer, his spittle
Is sweeter to me than wine and more delicious,

15. A moon that shows you through his cheek and coquetry
A dawn that shone when darkness enveloped it.

16. I ransom him with my heart from a moon, but he
From my eyes is veiled.

17. His cheek is attributed to the Pleiades, so for that
His apple is dyed with the blood of hearts.

18. And for his glance, the eggs of ostriches are attributed,
As for his figure, the duskiness of antelopes.