1. The stealthy drinker of wine, in poverty submerged,
Who keeps his drinking secret, his words disguised,

2. By the Kaaba I vowed, and all the idols there,
By every image worshipped with offerings of wine,

3. You'll face the morning soon, though now you turn away,
And if love's fever burned me, its cure was your wine,

4. You drank two rounds, and said, “Give me more and pour!”
The wine flowed into veins and arteries,

5. I knew not where it led, until the morn we woke,
And the third round galloped off with reason's rein,

6. Then voices rose, and hands reached out to serve,
As though we sat enthralled by wine again,

7. All garments gone but one, no sale, no shame,
A clanless orphan, stripped of honor's robe.