يا أَيُّها المَلِكُ الَّذي نُدَماؤُهُ

شُرَكاؤُهُ في مِلكِهِ لا مُلكِهِ

O King, whose boon companions truly stand

Partners in his fortune, though not his throne,

في كُلِّ يَومٍ بَينَنا دَمُ كَرمَةٍ

لَكَ تَوبَةٌ مِن تَوبَةٍ مِن سَفكِهِ

Each day between us flows the vine's red blood,

And you repent the very penance of its shedding.

وَالصِدقُ مِن شِيَمِ الكِرامِ فَنَبِّنا

أَمِنَ الشَرابِ تَتوبُ أَم مِن تَركِهِ

Since truth defines the noble character, inform us:

Do you repent the wine, or the forsaking of it?