1. Your excuses, not your remoteness, and my excuses,
Not your indifference to passion, but my deficiencies.

2. Accept life with joy, truly I saw life in days of joy.
So if you come you are with me, or if you invite me to be present,

3. With me is what you desire when we gather,
Prepared, grilled meat or stew,

4. And wine glasses between us and company,
Of slaughtered, purified maidens,

5. Who you’d think, when we’re joyful, are Byzantine girls in silk robes,
And varieties of fragrant plants, of the fruits

6. of rose gardens and streams,
No companion departs, if we decide on intimates.

7. Wine does not discourage people who take it in pairs and companions.
With rosy cheeks from Byzantine girls hustling around,

8. With roses and sweet basil they stew.
They have two flavors, of sweet honey

9. And rose water, no resin or tar,
Two months passed her or she ripened after two months with little effort,

10. She speaks of the season of roses, not of Persian kings in ancient times.
Short lived, her loss makes the regretful grieve,

11. For her prime is brief.
Rise my soul, your redemption, let's pluck her

12. with the cup’s talk and the large chalice,
And steal all her uniqueness,

13. from the pot and the aromatic secret.
For the day of joy, if it turns to you, until the resurrection.