ساقٍ هوَ البدر يُعاطي الطّلى

ناوَلني كَأساً مِنَ الخمرِ

Over the rim of the cup the moon doth peep

To spy the wine my lips would sip;

وَرامَ إِدباراً فقُلتُ اِصطَبِر

لأشربَ الشّمس على البدرِ

"Patience, fair moon," I cry, "awhile delay,

Let me drink first the sun that lights up day"