هَذا قِناعُ اللَيلِ مَحسورُ

فَاِشرَب فَقَد لاحَ التَباشيرُ

This is the mask of the enchanted night,

The mask of night is drawn aside,

So drink, for dawn's first glow is in sight.

So drink, for the streaks of dawn have appeared,

سُلافَةً لَم تَعتَصِرها يَدٌ

وَلَم يُدَنِّسها الأَعاصيرُ

A wine unpressed by any hand,

A pure vintage that no hand has pressed,

Unmarred by storms over the land.

And which no whirlwinds have defiled.

تَنزو إِذا الماءُ تَراءى لَها

كَما رَمى بِالشَرَرِ الكيرُ

When water you espy, it flows to you,

It leaps when water comes into view,

As embers flying, bright and new.

Just as the bellows cast forth sparks.

كَريمَةٌ أَصغَرُ آبائِها

إِن نُسِبَت كِسرى وَسابورُ

Noble though her lineage august,

A noble daughter; the youngest of her sires—

Be it Kisra's or Sabur's trust.

If her lineage be traced—are Chosroes and Sapor.

طَوى عَلَيها الدَهرُ أَيّامَهُ

وَعُمِّيَت عَنها المَقاديرُ

Over her the ages held sway

Time has folded its days over her,

And hid her from life's disarray.

And the decrees of fate were blinded to her.

فَلَم تَزَل تَخلُصُ حَتّى إِذا

صارَ إِلى النِصفِ بِها الصيرُ

Until when halfway was the strain,

She ceased not to refine herself, until

Deliverance from it she did gain.

The transformation brought her essence to the half.

جاءَت كَروحٍ لَم يَقُم جَوهَرٌ

لُطفاً بِهِ أَو يُحصِهِ نورُ

She came like a soul without a core

She emerged like a spirit; no substance remained

That formed it gently or lit before.

To embody her subtlety, nor could light encompass her.

يَسقِكَها مُختَلَقٌ ماجِنٌ

مُعَوَّدٌ لِلسَقيِ نِحريرُ

A rogue pours her, full of guile,

Served to you by a shapely, libertine youth,

To camels trained to walk the mile.

Accustomed to the pour, a master of the craft.

مُنقَطِعُ الرِدفِ هَضيمُ الحَشا

أَحوَرُ في عَينَيهِ تَفتيرُ

His saddle-girth in twain, eyes bleared,

Heavy of hip, slender of waist,

Askance, their sockets blood-inseared.

Deep-eyed, with a languor in his gaze.

قَد عَقرَبَت رابِيَةٌ صُدغَهُ

فَالصَدغُ بِالعَنبَرِ مَطرورُ

A scorpion has stung his cheek, hence

A rising curl acts the scorpion upon his temple,

The swelling with amberscence.

And the sidelock is sleeked with ambergris.

أَحسَنُ مِن سَيرٍ عَلى ناقَةٍ

سَيرٌ عَلى اللَذَةِ مَقصورُ

Better to walk in bliss, the sage

Better than a journey upon a she-camel

Avers, than ride the camel's stage.

Is a journey devoted solely to pleasure.