مِن نشرك طابَت نَفَحاتُ الكاسِ

مِن نشرك طابَت نَفَحاتُ الكاسِ

مِن عَكسِكَ راقَت صَفَحاتُ الكاسِ

مِن عَكسِكَ راقَت صَفَحاتُ الكاسِ

Through your fragrance, the goblet’s breaths grew sweet;

From your fragrance, the cup's wafts grew sweet.

Through your reflection, the goblet’s surfaces grew limpid.

From your reflection, the cup's surfaces grew lovely.

لَو لَم تَكُ نَشوَةُ الهَوى تطربني

لَو لَم تَكُ نَشوَةُ الهَوى تطربني

ما اِهتَزَّ بِعَطفي رَشَحاتُ الكاسِ

ما اِهتَزَّ بِعَطفي رَشَحاتُ الكاسِ

Had the intoxication of love not thrilled me,

If love's intoxication did not enrapture me,

the goblet’s droplets would not have trembled at my side.

The cup's droplets would not stir within my frame.