وَبِكْرِ راحٍ باكَرْتُ مُصْطَبِحاً

صَبُوحَها ما أُفَتِّرُ القَدَحا

In the early dawn I rose seeking

The first cup, never tiring of wine.

خَمْرٌ إِذا خامَرَتْ فُؤادَ فَتىً

أَهْدَتْ إِليهِ السُّرُورَ والفَرَحا

When wine trickles into the heart of a young man,

It brings him joy and gladness.

كأنَّ بُقْيَا حَبَابِها عَرَقٌ

مِنْ فَوقِ وَرْدِ الْخُدودِ قَدْ رَشَحا

As if the rest of its presses were beads

Of dew dripping from flushed cheeks.

ما اسْتَدَّ بابُ السُّرورِ عَنْ أَحَدٍ

إِلا غَدا بِالمُدامِ مُفْتَتَحا

The door of joy opens for no one

Unless with wine he unlocks it.