لِأَحِبَّتي أَن يَملَأوا
بِالصافِياتِ الأَكوُبا
My loved ones may fill
For my loved ones to fill
Let my beloved companions fill
The cups with clear wine.
The cups to the brim
The goblets with wine, clear and pure,
وَعَلَيهِمِ أَن يَبذُلوا
وَعَلَيَّ أَن لا أَشرَبا
And they must offer it,
And for them to give
And let them pour with open hands,
And I must not drink,
While I refrain from drinking
But as for me, I shall not drink,
حَتّى تَكونَ الباتِراتُ
المُسمِعاتُ فَأَطرَبا
Until the cleaving swords become
Until the desolate places
Until the sharp and severing blades
The singers—then I shall rejoice.
Hear and are delighted
Become the minstrels of my joy.
Sol 6.1