أَيا حُسنَ رَوضٍ بِالشّقائِقِ قَد زَها
تَميلُ بِها الأَغصانُ مَيلَ التبختُرِ
Oh, the loveliness of a meadow grown resplendent with red anemones!
The branches sway with them in a proud, strutting motion;
وَقَد مُلِئَت بِالطلِّ عِندَ اِنفِتاحِها
صَباحاً فَسَرَّت كلّ قَلبٍ وَمَنظرِ
And they are filled with dew as they unfold
in the morning, delighting every heart and every gaze:
كُؤوسٌ مِنَ الياقوتِ فيها مدامَةٌ
وَأُلصِقَ فيها حَبُّ مِسكٍ وَعَنبَرِ
Goblets of ruby, holding long-aged wine,
with grains of musk and ambergris affixed within them.
Sol 5.6