أَذاقَني الصَدَّ سوءُ تَدبيري

لِأَنَّ قَصدي بِغَيرِ تَقديري

Ill fortune caused my plans to go awry

My own poor judgment made me taste rejection,

For I had aims beyond my destiny.

For I pursued my aim without due circumspection.

ذاكَ لِأَنّي فَتىً لَهِجتُ بِما

يَخلُصُ في خالِصِ القَواريرِ

Because I was a youth who liked to speak

This, because I am a youth enthralled by that which

Of wine that's pure and filled up to the brim-

Gleams pure and clear within the purest crystal flagon.

مِن خَندَريسٍ لِجامُها خَزَفٌ

وَثَوبُها المُستَكِنِّ مِن قيرِ

In earthen jars from Khandaris it flowed,

Old vintage wine, its bridle made of earthen clay,

Or stitched skin bags smeared with bitumen's glim.

Its secret vesture coated deep in pitch and tar.

تُشرِقُ في الكَأسِ مِن تلأُلِئها

بِمُحكَماتٍ مِنَ التَصاويرِ

It shone as if with jewelry in the cup

It radiates within the cup, a glittering display,

Engraved with finest pictures on the rim,

Forming precise and masterful designs of imagery.

كَأَنَّما لاعِبُ الخَيالِ إِذا

أَظلَمَ يَلهى بِنَغمَةِ الزيرِ

As when imagination's juggler makes

As if a shadow-player, when the light grows dim,

Play by music at nighttime clear and prim;

Were playing in the dark the lute's high, slender string.

وَأَحوَرِ المُقلَتَينِ مُكتَحِلٍ

في فِتيَةٍ سادَةٍ نَحاريرِ

And the long-lashed eyes with kohl are daubed

And with a fawn-eyed beauty, lids adorned with kohl,

Of smooth-cheeked boys, so clever and so slim.

Amidst a band of noble youths, learnèd and kingly souls.

في مَجلِسٍ مُشرِفٍ عَلى شَجَرٍ

يَضحَكُ تُفّاحُهُ إِلى الخَيرِ

We sat in a pavilion with a view

In an assembly seated high above the trees,

Of trees whose apples smiled up to the limb,

Where ripening apples laugh towards the season's offering.

وَطائِرٍ واقِعٍ عَلى فَنَنٍ

تُسعِدُهُ ضَجَّةُ العَصافيرِ

And birds lit on branches singing songs

And there, a bird alighting upon a slender bough,

To blend with chiming notes and voices slim.

Cheered by the clamor that the sparrow flock is proffering.

فَلَم نَزَل يَومَنا وَلَيلَتَنا

نَقراً عَلى السَطحِ بِالطَنابيرِ

Our day and night were happy, hour on hour,

And so we ceased not, through our day and through our night,

Tapping the roof to time of tambourine,

To strum upon the rooftop with the lute's delight.

حَتّى رَأَينا السَوادَ مُنحَسِراً

وَدارَتِ الشَمسُ في المَقاصيرِ

Until the darkness we saw shrinking back,

Until we saw the darkness receding from the skies,

The sun moved round the cupola's broad brim;

And through the palace chambers, the sun began to rise.

وَحينَ حانَت صَلاتُنا لِضُحىً

قُمنا نُصَلّي بِغَيرِ تَكبيرِ

And when the dawn came and our prayer was called,

And when the hour of morning prayer arrived at last,

We rose and prayed, no need for chanting hymn.

We rose to pray—though no 'Allahu Akbar' passed.