كَم لِلصَبابَةِ وَالصِبا مِن مَنزِلِ

كَم لِلصَبابَةِ وَالصِبا مِن مَنزِلِ

ما بَينَ كَلواذي إلى قَطرَبُّلِ

ما بَينَ كَلواذي إلى قَطرَبُّلِ

How many abodes longing and youth have,

How many a station between Kelothi and Katrabul

from Kalwadhi to Qatrabbul!

Has the morning cloud watered from its rain clouds,

جادَتهُ مِن ديمِ المُدامِ سَحائِب

جادَتهُ مِن ديمِ المُدامِ سَحائِب

أَغنَتهُ عَن صَوبِ الحَيا المُتَهَلِّلِ

أَغنَتهُ عَن صَوبِ الحَيا المُتَهَلِّلِ

Clouds showered it with steady rains of wine,

Dispensing with the direction of easy life and its shimmering mirage.

sparing it the downpour of the beaming rain.

When the lightning of the rain cloud flashed,

غَيثٌ إِذا ما الراحُ أَومَضَ بَرقُهُ

غَيثٌ إِذا ما الراحُ أَومَضَ بَرقُهُ

فَرُعودهُ حَثَّ الثَقيلِ الأَوَّلِ

فَرُعودهُ حَثَّ الثَقيلِ الأَوَّلِ

A rain: whenever the wine’s lightning flashes,

Its thunder stirred the heavy-laden clouds,

its thunder is the quickening of the First Heavy rhythm.

Its direction softened and its struggle rejuvenated,

لَطفت مَواقِعُ صَوبهُ فَسجالهُ

لَطفت مَواقِعُ صَوبهُ فَسجالهُ

تَهمى عَلى كَربِ النُفوسِ فَتَنجَلي

تَهمى عَلى كَربِ النُفوسِ فَتَنجَلي

Its rain falls gently, and its torrents

Yearning to relieve the distress of souls.

pour upon the anguish of souls until it clears.

I sipped the wine-cup whose bending almost made me fall

راضَعتُ فيهِ الكَأسَ أَهيَفَ يَنثَني

راضَعتُ فيهِ الكَأسَ أَهيَفَ يَنثَني

نَحوي بِجيدِ رَشاً وَعَينَي مُغزِلِ

نَحوي بِجيدِ رَشاً وَعَينَي مُغزِلِ

There I suckled at the cup with a slender youth who leaned

Towards the gazelle with the soft neck and large black eyes.

toward me, with a fawn’s neck and a mother gazelle’s eyes.

Then came the dawn when sunlight embroidered its garment

فَأَتى وَقَد نَقَشَ الشُعاعُ ثِيابَهُ

فَأَتى وَقَد نَقَشَ الشُعاعُ ثِيابَهُ

بِمُمَزَّجٍ مِن نَسجِها وَمُثقَلِ

بِمُمَزَّجٍ مِن نَسجِها وَمُثقَلِ

He came, the radiance having patterned his robes

With interwoven threads of saffron dye.

with blended and heavy cloth of the wine’s weaving.

The wild plums dressed it with a dye. Oh, would that

وَكَسا البَنانُ بِها خضاباً يا لَهُ

وَكَسا البَنانُ بِها خضاباً يا لَهُ

لَو أَنَّهُ مِن وَقتِهِ لَم يَنصُلِ

لَو أَنَّهُ مِن وَقتِهِ لَم يَنصُلِ

And it clothed the fingertips in the wine’s dye—what a dye,

It had never been separated from its time!

if only it had not faded that very instant!

The kindler ignited its flints, so it burst forth

قَدَح البزال زَنادُها مِن دَنِّها

قَدَح البزال زَنادُها مِن دَنِّها

فَتَهافَتَت مِثلَ الشَرابِ المُرسَلِ

فَتَهافَتَت مِثلَ الشَرابِ المُرسَلِ

The tap struck its fire from its wine jar,

Like unbound wine, and the water could not quench it.

and it tumbled down like wine let loose.

I thought the goblet was a glowing coal.

وَطَغَت لِعَجزِ الماءِ عَن إِطفائِها

وَطَغَت لِعَجزِ الماءِ عَن إِطفائِها

حَتّى ظَنَنتُ الكَأسَ جَذوَةَ مُصطَلي

حَتّى ظَنَنتُ الكَأسَ جَذوَةَ مُصطَلي

And it flared up, for water could not extinguish it,

So I came to a halt at a watering place and drank the sweetest drink,

until I thought the cup an ember for one warming himself.

I drank from the most delicious spring, and in neither intoxication nor sobriety

فَوَرَدتُ أَروي مَورِدٍ وَشَرِبتُ أَح

فَوَرَدتُ أَروي مَورِدٍ وَشَرِبتُ أَح

لى مَشرَبٍ وَنَهَلتُ أَعذَبَ مَنهَلِ

لى مَشرَبٍ وَنَهَلتُ أَعذَبَ مَنهَلِ

Then I came to the most thirst-quenching source and drank the sweet-

Did disgrace make me withdraw or honor make me refuse.

est draught, and drank deep from the freshest spring.

وَنَزَعتُ لا في السُكرِ خُنتُ تَصَوُّني

وَنَزَعتُ لا في السُكرِ خُنتُ تَصَوُّني

بِخَناً وَلا في الصَحوِ شِنتُ تَجمَلى

بِخَناً وَلا في الصَحوِ شِنتُ تَجمَلى

And I desisted: neither in drunkenness did I betray my self-restraint

with obscene speech, nor in sobriety did I mar my dignity.