إِنّي لِصافي الراحِ شَرّابُ

وَلِلظِباءِ الغيدِ رَكّابُ

I am a drinker of the limpid winds,

Verily, I am a devoted drinker of clear wine,

And a rider of the restless desert steeds.

And a master rider of the supple gazelles,

وَإِنَّما روحِيَ كُلُّ اِمرِئٍ

مَنزِلُهُ الجَنّاتُ وَالغابُ

For every man's soul in the end

For my spirit belongs to every person

Has paradise or hell for its abode.

Whose dwelling is the gardens and the woods,

فَاشرَب عَلى وَجهِ هَضيمِ الحَشا

أَينَعَ في خَدَّيهِ عُنّابُ

So drink over the cheek of the slender one,

So drink to the face of the slender-waisted one,

Where beauty lies nestled like spikenard buds.

In whose cheeks the red jujubes have ripened,

كَأَنَّما هاروتُ في طَرفِهِ

بِالسِحرِ في عَينَيهِ جَلّابُ

It seems as though the evil Harut's eye

As though Harut resides within his glance,

Has by sorcery in her glances laboured.

Bringing forth magic through his eyes,

مَطِيَّةُ الكَأسِ بَنانٌ لَهُ

أَصبَحَ فيهِ الحُسنُ يَنسابُ

The wine cup's stroke on his cheek

The cup’s mount is a set of fingertips,

Has caused beauty to flow up and sparkle there.

In which beauty has come to flow.