قَد أَغتَدي قَبلَ مَذاذِ الخامِسِ

بِضَرِمٍ يَنغِصُ كَفَّ اللامِسِ

Before the late afternoon I had feasted

I venture forth before the thirsting sandgrouse take their flight,

On a meal that pains the touch of the taster,

With a fiery bow that chafes the palm of him who grips it,

بِجِلدَةٍ تَندى وَحَجمٍ يابِسٍ

عَلَيهِ مِن مَنضوحَةِ القَلانِسِ

On tough meat gone stale and dry crumbs

Sheathed in supple, moist skin, yet hard and dry of core,

Sprinkled with juice from the bitter colocynth.

Crowned with broad tips that sit like hoods upon its ends,

قَنفاءُ ذاتُ عَذَبٍ نَوايِسِ

يَهوعُ فوها كَهُواعِ القالِسِ

A wench with a slender waist and languorous eyes

A curved arch adorned with leather straps that sway and dance,

Whose kisses burn like red-hot coals.

Its mouth retching the arrow forth like the heaving of the sick.