قُلتُ لما بكى عَشيَّةَ نادَي

تُ صُروفَ الرَّدى غدٌ يومُ وَعدِك

I said, when he wept one evening and called out,

“The turns of fate promise tomorrow is the day of your return.”

عَدلَ الدَّهرُ بَعدَ جَورٍ فَأَبكا

كَ لتَبكي كَما بَكيتُ لبُعدِك

Time was unjust then became fair, so it made you weep

as I wept from your absence.

فاسقِني الراحَ سَقيَ أَجفانِكَ الدَّم

عَ وقايِس شربي إِلى شربِ خَدِّك

Give me the wine that quenched your eyelids’ thirst

and measure my drinking by the drinking of your cheek.