بِئسَ شِعارُ الرَّجلِ الشَّعارَهْ

بِئسَ شِعارُ الرَّجلِ الشَّعارَهْ

يُلبِسُهُ ذُلُّ المَعاشِ عارَهْ

يُلبِسُهُ ذُلُّ المَعاشِ عارَهْ

How wretched a garb for a man is the poet's craft!

How wretched is the motto of a man whose poverty shames him,

The humiliation of earning a living clothes him in its shame.

Who is clothed in the garb of humiliation by his livelihood.

بنفسي نَشوَةُ الخَمرِ

بنفسي نَشوَةُ الخَمرِ

فمِنها تَمَّ لي أمري

فمِنها تَمَّ لي أمري

I would give my life for the rapture of wine;

I find delight in wine

for through it my purpose was fulfilled.

Through which my affairs prospered.

ولولا طلَبُ الشُّكْرِ

ولولا طلَبُ الشُّكْرِ

لأحجَمْتُ منَ الذُّعْرِ

لأحجَمْتُ منَ الذُّعْرِ

And were it not for seeking gratitude,

And were it not for the quest for gratitude,

I would have held back in terror,

I would have shunned danger.

فأخللَتُ بحَظِّ النَّفْ

فأخللَتُ بحَظِّ النَّفْ

سِ إشفاقاً على قَدْري

سِ إشفاقاً على قَدْري

and so would have neglected my soul's share,

So I interspersed the lot of my soul with care for my fate,

out of concern for my standing.

But I expected

ولكِنِّي توقَّحْتُ

ولكِنِّي توقَّحْتُ

بأقداحٍ منِ الخَمْرِ

بأقداحٍ منِ الخَمْرِ

But I grew brazen

With cups of wine,

with cups of wine.

And feared not the fear of disgrace while sipping through my mouth.

ولم أخشَ مَخوفَ الثَّغْ

ولم أخشَ مَخوفَ الثَّغْ

رِ عندَ الرَّشفِ بالثَّغْرِ

رِ عندَ الرَّشفِ بالثَّغْرِ

Nor did I fear the frontier's peril

I hastened to embrace the full moon from my night until dawn.

as I sipped with my lips.

Oh, our night was nothing but the night of destiny,

وبادرْتُ اعتِناق البد

وبادرْتُ اعتِناق البد

رِ من ليلي إلى الفَجْرِ

رِ من ليلي إلى الفَجْرِ

And I hastened to embrace the full moon,

Or the cream of days,

from my night until dawn.

Or the prime of life.

فيا ليلَتَنا ما كُن

فيا ليلَتَنا ما كُن

تِ إلاّ ليلةَ القَدْرِ

تِ إلاّ ليلةَ القَدْرِ

So, O our night, you were nothing

but the Night of Decree,

وإلاّ زُبدَةَ الأيّا

وإلاّ زُبدَةَ الأيّا

مِ أو باكورةَ العُمْرِ

مِ أو باكورةَ العُمْرِ

and nothing but the cream of days,

or the first fruits of life.