كتبتُ بها في يوم لهوٍ وهَامتي

تمارسُ من أهوالهِ ما تُمارسُ

I wrote with it one day in play and rapture

It practices of its terrors what it practices

وعندي رجالٌ للمجون ترجَّلَت

عَمَائِمُهُم عن هامِهم والطَّيالسُ

And I have men for revelry who have become nimble

Their turbans slipped from their foreheads, and the slippers

فللراح ما زُرَّت عليه جيوبَها

وللماء ما دارت عليه القلانسُ

So for the wind are those whose pockets it has tossed about

And for the water are those the jars have circled around

مساحبُ من جرّ الزقاق على القَفَا

واضغَاثُ أنطاعٍ جنِّى ويابسُ

Scrapers along the street corners on their ankles

Withered weeds of Anṭāʿ, soft and dry