تالله تعذُرُني العُلا

والكأسُ يَمرَحُ في يدي

The hills torment me

As the cup frolics in my hand,

والحربُ لم تضرِب بنا

خَيشوم نقعٍ أربَدِ

And war has not struck at us

With the nose of a dripping flask,

ورؤوسُ أعدائي جُثُو

مٌ لم تَطِر بمُهَنَّدِ

And the heads of my enemies lie fallen

Who were not hit by a sharp sword,

ويَلُمِّ دهرٍ لا يُسَل

لَمُنِي لطعنٍ اجردِ

And time passes inexorably

Without a stab from my keen blade,

قَلقَت بنا أيامُهُ

فكأننا في مِزوَدِ

Its days disquiet us

As though we were in a crucible,

أرجو غداً وأقول عَل

لَ غداً ومَن لي بالغَدِ

I hope for tomorrow and I say maybe

There is no tomorrow - who do I have for tomorrow?