1. Though I am not among those suckled on wine,

    nor have I, for you, cured drunkenness with drunkenness,

  2. nor, when its horses grew still,

    set them racing in the arena of the breast,

  3. yet I love the drinking companions and whatever

    they do, both good and evil.

  4. And I adore the cup; its power

    holds them fast through prohibitions and commands.

  5. As though the wine in their palms

    were stars coursing in an orbit.

  6. Their hands are arrayed for its rounds,

    as you arrange letters in a line.

  7. Its yellow ruby is their water;

    within it, blossoms of pearl spring up.

  8. My eye enjoys it, but my hand is kept

    from it, as is the seat of joy.

  9. Yet sometimes a slim-waisted youth would bring it round,

    his eyelids from the pages of magic.

  10. His sidelocks are of the jet of darkness,

    and his face of the full moon's essence.

  11. And he accepts no hospitality but wine,

    even if we served him unworked gold.

  12. When foam rises on it, I imagine it

    as clouds bearing the cool gleam of teeth.

  13. And not a drop of what it holds is mine,

    O pourer of the rain-stars' showers!

  14. So give it freely: in its fragrance it resembles

    my good name, and in its delicacy my poetry.

  15. You are my Ṣarīfīn and my Quṭrubbul,

    and the age's cause for gratitude.

Sol 6.1