أَلا رُبَّ يَومٍ حَثَّتِ الكاسُ خَطوَهُ

فَطارَ وَأَيّامُ السُرورِ قِصارُ

Alas, many a day when the cup hastened his steps

And sped away, and the days of joy are few,

عَثَرتُ بِذَيلِ السُكرِ فيهِ عَشِيَّةً

وَلِلريحِ في مَوجِ الخَليجِ عِثارُ

At eve I stumbled in the skirt of drunkenness

And the wind in the wave of the gulf had a mind to sink me;

وَقَد فَضَّضَ النُوّارُ كُلَّ رَباوَةٍ

وَسالَ عَلَيها لِلأَصيلِ نُضارُ

But the butler opened all the bottles he had,

And poured for the family of origin a sparkling wine.