أَبَحتُ حَريمَ الكَأسِ إِذ كُنتُ مُثرِياً

وَأَقصَرتُ عَنها بَعدَما صِرتُ مُعسِرا

I enjoyed drinking wine when I was wealthy,

I laid claim to the sanctuary of the cup when wealth was mine,

But stayed away when I became impoverished.

But held my hand from it once I fell into penury.

وَلَو أَنَّ مالي يَستَقِلَّ بِلَذَّتي

لَأَنسَيتُ أَهلَ اللَهوِ كِسرى وَقَيصَرا

If only I had money to enjoy it,

And were my wealth sufficient to sustain my delight,

I would forget the revelers like Chosroes and Caesar.

I would have made the revelers forget both Chosroes and Caesar.

وَثِقتُ بِعَفوِ اللَهِ عَن كُلِّ مُسلِمٍ

فَلَستُ عَنِ الصَهباءِ ما عِشتُ مُقصِرا

I trust in God's forgiveness of every Muslim,

I placed my trust in God's forgiveness for every Muslim,

So I shall not neglect prayer as long as I live.

So never, while I live, shall I renounce the crimson wine.

وَأَحوَرَ مَخلوعِ الزِمامِ تَخالُهُ

قَضيباً مِنَ الريحانِ يَهتَزُّ أَخضَرا

The loose-reined beauty sways

And a dark-eyed youth, unbridled and wild—you would deem him

Like a green basil twig.

A slender branch of sweet basil, swaying in its greenness,

مَريضِ جُفونِ المُقلَتَينِ مُزَنَّرٍ

لَهُ شَفَةٌ مِن مَصِّها مَصَّ سُكَّرا

Sick are the eyelids of the sleepy drunk

With languid, heavy eyelids, and girded by a sash,

Whose lips are sweet with sugar.

Possessing lips that taste of sugar to the one who sips them.

فَلَو أَنَّهُ يَقظانُ أَو في مَنامِهِ

يَجودُ لِأَعمى بِالوَلاءِ لَأَبصَرا

If he were awake or dreaming,

Were he—whether waking or deep in slumber—

He would be loyal to a blind man.

To grant his favor to the blind, that blind man would surely see.

يَخُرُّ لِصِرفِ الكَأسِ في السُكرِ ساجِداً

وَإِن مُزِجَت صَلّى عَلَيها وَكَيَّرا

He bows down worshipping the pouring of wine,

He falls down prostrate in his stupor before the pure cup,

And if it is mixed, he prays over it and honours it.

And should it be diluted, he prays and magnifies its name.

أَدارَ عَلَينا بِالتَحِيَّةِ كَأسَهُ

وَسَربَلَها لَوناً مِنَ الراحِ أَحمَرا

He passed the cup to us in greeting

He passed his goblet round among us with a greeting,

And coloured its robe a rosy red.

And robed the glass in the crimson raiment of the vine.

فَقُلتُ لَهُ وَالكَأسُ تُزهى بِكَفِّهِ

وَقَد رَعَفَ الإِبريقُ فيها وَقَرقَرا

I said to him, as the cup adorned his palm,

I said to him, as the cup flaunted its pride within his palm,

And the ewer gurgled into it:

While the pitcher bled its vintage into it and gurgled loud:

بِرَبِّكَ خَمراً أَم نَقيعاً سَقَيتَني

فَقالَ مِنَ التَكريهِ ماءً مُزَعفَرا

"By your Lord, did you give me wine or pure drink?"

"By your Lord, is it wine or mere infusion you have served me?"

He said, to avoid sin: "Yellow water."

He answered with a coy disdain: "'Tis but water dyed with saffron."

فَقُلتُ لَهُ هَب لي مِنَ النَومِ رَقدَةً

فَسَوفَ نُغاديها إِذا الصُبحُ أَسفَرا

So I said: "Give me some sleep,"

I said to him: "Grant me then a brief respite of sleep,"

"And we will indulge it when dawn glows."

"For we shall return to the cup as soon as dawn breaks bright."