لا وَجُفونٍ تَنوسُ في العُقَدِ

وَحُسْنُ ثَغْرٍ يَلُوحُ كَالْبَرَدِ

No eyelids grow weary in the knots,

And the beauty of lips gleam like hailstones.

لا كُنْتُ مِمَّنْ يُضيعُ أَدْمُعَهُ

بين الأَثافي والنَؤْيِ والوَتِدِ

I'm not one who wastes his tears

Between tents, intonations, and tent pegs.

أَحْسَنُ مِنْ وَقْفَةٍ على طَلَلٍ

قَفْرٍ وزَجْرِ العَيْرانَةِ الأُجُدِ

Better than standing at the ruins

Of a barren desert and the scolding of caravaneers

كَأْسُ مُدامٍ جَلا المُديرُ بِها

أَمَّ اللَّيالي وجَدَّةَ الأَبَدِ

Is a cup of wine the tavern keeper matured,

Mother of nights and essence of perpetuity.

نَشْرَبُها شُعْلَةً بِلا حُرَقٍ

ونَجْتَليها رُوحاً بِلا جَسَدِ

We drink it in a flame without being burnt

And enjoy it as a spirit without a body.

هَلْ أَحَدٌ نالَ مِثْلَ لَذَّتِنا

يا بامَخايِالَ لَيْلَةَ الأَحَدِ

Has anyone attained pleasure like ours,

O dreams of the night of Sunday?

سَقْيا لِماخورِ حارِثٍ ولِما

خَصَّ بِهِ مِنْ مَحاسِنٍ جُدُدِ

A drink to the incense burner of Harith and what

He was distinguished with of renewed beauties.

قُلْتُ لَهُ وابْنُهُ يَطوفُ بِها

عُمْرُكَ فينا عِمَارَةُ البَلَدِ

I said to him while his son walked around it:

“Your life for us is the prosperity of the country,

بِابْنِكَ ذا في جَمالِ صُورَتِهِ

صِرْتَ أَبا الظَبْيِ لا أَبا الأَسَدِ

With your son, who in the beauty of his image

You have become the gazelle’s not the lion’s father.”

هاتِ اسْقِنِيها فَإِنْ سَفَكْتَ دَمي

فَما بِقَتْلي عَليْكَ مِنْ قَوَدِ

Give it to me to drink, and if you spill my blood,

There will be no retaliation for my murder.