إِسقِنا يا يَزيدُ بِالقَرقارَه

قَد طَرِبنا وَحَنَّتِ الزَمارَه

Give me to drink, O Yazid, from the gurgling jug

For we are enraptured and the lute is moaning

مِن شَرابٍ كَأَنَّهُ دَمُ خَشفٍ

عَتَّقَتهُ هَشيمَةُ الخَمّارَه

With a drink that is like the blood of an unweaned lamb

Aged by the dregs of the wine-merchant's flagon

إِسقِني إِسقِني فَإِنَّ ذُنوبي

قَد أَحاطَت فَما لَها كَفّارَه

Give me to drink, give me to drink, for my sins

Have encircled me, with no atonement