تَرَكتُ الطِلا أَو لَستُ أَقرَبُ شُربَهُ

وَما راحَتي في أَن أَسُرُّ الأَعادِيا

I have left wine, or am I not closer to drinking it,

I have forsaken the wine, and draw not near its cup,

And I have no tranquility in harming enemies,

For I find no solace in the pleasure of my foes.

وَلَكِن أَخوها مِن زَبيبٍ مُعَتَّقٍ

يُمَنّيكَ إِن أَكثَرتَ مِنهُ الأَمانِيا

But its brother made from aged raisins,

Instead I choose its kin, brewed from aged raisins,

Promises you, if you have high hopes,

That stirs up fondest hopes if you but drink your fill.

أَخو الخَمرِ مِن عُنقودِها غَيرَ أَنَّهُم

إِذا قَطَعوهُ جَفَّفوهُ لَيالِيا

The brother of wine from its bunches, except that they

It is the brother of wine, born of the selfsame grape,

When picking it, dry it for nights

Save that when they cut it, they dried it many nights.