ما زِلتُ أَستَلُّ روحَ الدَنِّ في لُطفٍ

ما زِلتُ أَستَلُّ روحَ الدَنِّ في لُطفٍ

وَأَستَقي دَمَهُ مِن جَوفِ مَجروحِ

وَأَستَقي دَمَهُ مِن جَوفِ مَجروحِ

I kept gently drawing out the wine jar’s soul,

I continue to draw the soul of baseness with gentleness

I ceased not gently drawing forth the spirit of the cask,

and drawing its blood from a wounded belly,

And I quench my thirst with blood from the gut of the wounded one

And drinking of its blood from a wounded flank,

حَتّى اِنثَنَيتُ وَلي روحانِ في جَسَدٍ

حَتّى اِنثَنَيتُ وَلي روحانِ في جَسَدٍ

وَالدَنُّ مُنطَرِحٌ جِسماً بِلا روحِ

وَالدَنُّ مُنطَرِحٌ جِسماً بِلا روحِ

until I turned back with two souls in one body,

Until I became infused with two spirits in one body

Until I swayed, holding two souls within one frame,

while the wine jar lay sprawled, a body without a soul.

While the base one lies as a corpse without a soul

While the cask lay cast aside, a body bereft of soul.