وَمَجلِسٍ ما لَهُ شَبيهٌ

حَلَّ بِهِ الحُسنُ وَالجَمالُ

A council with no peer

A gathering that has no equal,

Where beauty and perfection dwell

Where grace and beauty have taken residence.

يَمطُرُ فيهِ السُرورُ سَحّاً

بِديمَةٍ ما لَها اِنتِقالُ

Joy rains continuously

Joy rains down within it in torrents,

With unceasing constancy

A ceaseless downpour that never departs.

شَهِدتُهُ في شَبابِ صِدقٍ

ما إِن يُسامى لَهُم فَعالُ

I saw it in truthful youth

I attended it amidst noble youths,

When their deeds were yet untold

Whose deeds remain beyond all rivalry.

نَأخُذُ صَهباءَ بِنتَ كَرمٍ

عَذراءَ لَم تُؤوِها الحِجالُ

We took fair Sahba, Karim's daughter

We take the reddish wine, daughter of the vine,

An untouched virgin sheltered from slander

A virgin whom bridal curtains have never sheltered.

نَشرَبُها بِالكِبارِ صِرفاً

وَلَيسَ في شُربِنا مُطالُ

Drank it straight without delay

We drink it pure from great goblets,

Our drinking free of idle waste

With no delay in our rounds.

يَسعى بِها مُخطَفٌ غَريرٌ

كَأَنَّهُ البَدرُ أَو مِثالُ

A sly raider sought her

Served by a slender-waisted, youthful cupbearer,

Like the full moon or an idol

Resembling the full moon or a sculpted image.

فَصُرِّعَ القَومُ وَاِستَدارَت

رَحى الحُمَيّا بِهِم فَمالوا

The people fell unconscious as

The company was struck down as the millstone

The mill of hungover whirled around

Of wine spun around them, making them sway.

كَأَنَّما الشَربُ بَعدَ هَذيٍ

صَرعى تَمادى بِهِم كَلالُ

Our drinking after this

As if the drinkers, after their delirious babble,

Brought drowsiness and stupor

Were fallen warriors overcome by exhaustion.

حَتّى إِذا ما بَدا سُهَيلٌ

وَحانَ مِن لَيلِنا اِرتِحالُ

Until Suhail star rose

Until, when the Star of Canopus appeared,

And our night drew to an end

And the time for our night's departure drew near,

نَبَّهتُ طَلقَ اليَدَينِ سَمحاً

يَمطُرُ مِن كَفِّهِ النَوالُ

I roused relaxed-handed generosity

I roused the open-handed, generous one,

Rain pouring from his palms

From whose palm bounty pours like rain—

مُحَمَّداً خَيرَ مَن يُرَّجى

يَقصُرُ عَن وَصفِهِ المَقالُ

Muhammad, the best refuge

Muhammad, the best of those in whom hope is placed,

Beyond words to describe him

Whom speech falls short of describing.

فَقُلتُ خُذها فَدَتكَ نَفسي

فَكُلُّ شَيءٍ لَهُ زَوالُ

I said: she is yours, my soul your ransom

I said, "Take this cup, may my soul be your ransom,"

For all things come to pass

"For everything is destined to pass away."

فَقامَ وَالنَومُ في المَآقي

كَأَنَّما مَسَّهُ خَبالُ

He rose though sleep held his eyelids

He rose, with sleep still lingering in his eyes,

As if touched by a sorcerer’s spell

Looking as though touched by madness.

ثُمَّ اِحتَبى مُسرِعاً وَغَنّى

بِخُسرَوِيٍّ لَهُ دَلالُ

Then sped eagerly and sang

Then he quickly sat clasping his knees and sang

A Khosrow song that entrances

In a royal Persian melody possessed of charm:

عَيناكَ دَمعاهُما سِجالُ

كَأَنَّ شَأنَيهِما وِشالُ

Your eyes with tear-lined lids

"Your eyes—their tears pour forth like buckets,"

Appear kohl-lined and dark

"As if their ducts were leaking waterskins."