بِئسَ شِعارُ الرَّجلِ الشَّعارَهْ

يُلبِسُهُ ذُلُّ المَعاشِ عارَهْ

How wretched is the motto of a man whose poverty shames him,

Who is clothed in the garb of humiliation by his livelihood.

بنفسي نَشوَةُ الخَمرِ

فمِنها تَمَّ لي أمري

I find delight in wine

Through which my affairs prospered.

ولولا طلَبُ الشُّكْرِ

لأحجَمْتُ منَ الذُّعْرِ

And were it not for the quest for gratitude,

I would have shunned danger.

فأخللَتُ بحَظِّ النَّفْ

سِ إشفاقاً على قَدْري

So I interspersed the lot of my soul with care for my fate,

But I expected

ولكِنِّي توقَّحْتُ

بأقداحٍ منِ الخَمْرِ

With cups of wine,

And feared not the fear of disgrace while sipping through my mouth.

ولم أخشَ مَخوفَ الثَّغْ

رِ عندَ الرَّشفِ بالثَّغْرِ

I hastened to embrace the full moon from my night until dawn.

Oh, our night was nothing but the night of destiny,

وبادرْتُ اعتِناق البد

رِ من ليلي إلى الفَجْرِ

Or the cream of days,

Or the prime of life.

فيا ليلَتَنا ما كُن

تِ إلاّ ليلةَ القَدْرِ

وإلاّ زُبدَةَ الأيّا

مِ أو باكورةَ العُمْرِ