الوَردُ في وَردِ الضَبابِ شُموسٌ

وَالراحُ في حُلَلِ الكُؤوسِ عَروسُ

Roses in the mist's roses are suns

And breezes in goblets' gowns are brides

وَلَنا مُغَنٍّ حَجرُهُ العَرشُ الَّذي

طُنبورُهُ مِن فَوقِهِ بَلقيسُ

We have a singer whose lyre is the throne

Whose lute is the Queen of Sheba from on high

فَالغَيمُ فاخِتَةٌ نَلَذُّ بِصَوتِها

وَالجَوُّ وَكرٌ وَالثَرى طاووسُ

So the clouds swoon when they hear his tone

And the air whirls round and the earth's a peacock's eye