لا راحَ ما لم يَصْفُها الرّاووقُ
رَحْبُ الذَّرى ينحَطُّ فيه الضِّيقُ
Wine is no wine unless the strainer has clarified it.
No rest but what the storyteller extols
Broad at the top, it tapers downward.
Spacious earth where confinement dissolves
سَماءُ لاذٍ قَطرُها رَحيقُ
تألَّفَتْ من مُزنِهِ البُروقُ
A sky of silk whose rain is pure wine.
A sheltering sky whose drops are pure honey
From its rainclouds the lightning flashes gathered.
Assembled from its treasures lightning bolts
يَسقيكَ من سَحابِه الإبريقُ
ماءَ عَقيقٍ لو جرى العَقيقُ
The ewer gives you drink from its cloud:
To water you from its clouds the ewer
Water of agate, if agate could flow.
Of gemstone water, if it flowed as gems
راحٌ تولَّى سبكَها التَّعتيقُ
عَتَّقَها من عُمْرٍ الزَّرنوقُ
Wine that aging itself undertook to cast;
A rest commissioned, wrought by aged care
The well-hoist freed it from a monastery.
Freed from a lifetime by the skillful smith
حتَّى إذا ألهَبها التَّصفيقُ
صِحْنا إلى جيرانِنا الحَريقُ
Until, when mixing set it aflame,
Till when the clapping made it glow
We cried to our neighbors, “Fire!”
Our neighbors shouted, Fire! Fire!
Sol 6.1