1. O my companion, your cup's clink distracts my hearing from her reproaches,
As you pour wine into cups with mouths of ewers.

2. He bent his pitcher under her abode,
Until it was filled from the heart of fermented grapes.

3. Laughing coquettishly, the tender apple in his mouth,
With a cheek beauty-marked by musk.

4. As if he had spread out brocade on his face,
An embroidery whose beauty was exquisitely wrought.

5. We are with him, and in his days forever,
Celebrating in a festival, joyous and glad.

6. For he remains, of the youths, possessed of rapture,
Melting gold that had flowed molten from a crucible.

7. The sun's heat poured on him, refining him,
Distinguishing the pure gold, however it be purified.

8. It contends with water in cups when mixed
With a sword of drowsiness, tottering.

9. Whenever it desires tempestuousness, while she restrains him,
Can he wield any weapon but severance?

10. Doubt does not keep my resolve seated when he rises,
Nor is my head bound from resoluteness.