أَأَدمَيتَ بِالماءِ القَراحِ جَبينَها

لِتَسمَعَ في صَحنِ الزُجاجِ أَنينَها

Did you wet her fevered brow with cool water

Did you bloody her brow with water, clear and cold,

To hear her moan resonate in the glass bowl?

To hear, within the glass, her weeping told?

فَقَد سَمِعَت أُذناكَ عِندَ مِزاجِها

أَنيناً وَأَلحاناً تُجيبُ دَنينَها

For when her temper rose, your ears did know

For your ears have heard, as the mixture blends,

The tunes and sighs that met her soft growl.

The moans and melodies her humming sends.

فَصُنها عَنِ الماءِ القَراحِ وَهاتِها

فَإِنَّكَ إِن لَم تَسقِني مِتُّ دونَها

Spare her the chill water and draw near

So guard her from the water, and pour her pure,

For if you let me perish, no more cheer

For without this draught, my death is sure.

بِآنِيَةٍ مَخروطَةٍ مِن زَبَرجَدٍ

تَخَيَّرَ كِسرى خَرطَها لِيَصونَها

Will come from cups of emerald and jade

In a tapered vessel of chrysolite stone,

Which Kisra's self did choose with utmost care

Which Chosroes fashioned to keep as his own;

بِكَفٍّ تَكادُ الكَأسُ تُدمي بَنانَها

إِذا أُزعِجَ التَحريكُ مِنها سُكونَها

Lest hands should trouble stillness when they laid

In a hand so soft, the cup might wound the skin,

Along the rim and roused slumbering there

When movement stirs the stillness held within.

كَأَنَّ رِجالَ الهِندِ حَولَ إِنائِها

عَكوفٌ عَلى خَيلٍ تُديرُ مُتونَها

Turbaned Hindi chiefs round chargers stayed

As if men of Ind, encircling the vase,

While steeds curvetted underneath their stare

Were bent on steeds, wheeling in the chase.