وَمَجلِسِ خَمّارٍ إِلى جَنبِ حانَةٍ

بِقُطرَبَّلٍ بَينَ الجِنانِ الحَدائِقِ

In a tavern by the wine-seller's assembly,

And a vintner's gathering beside a tavern,

In Cutrubbul between gardens flanked by meadows,

In Qutrabbul, amidst the gardens and orchards,

تَجاهَ مَيادينٍ عَلى جَنَباتِها

رِياضٌ غَدَت مَحفوفَةً بِالشَقائِقِ

Facing fields with tulips blooming at their edges,

Facing open fields, along whose borders

We stood among youths who made proud necks bow to them,

Meadows have become encircled by red anemones.

فَقُمنا بِها في فِتيَةٍ خَضَعَت لَهُم

رِقابُ صَناديدِ الكُماةِ البَطارِقِ

With a sun-like beauty whose light covers you

We lingered there among youths to whom bow down

When it appears from the horizons of the east,

The necks of stalwart warriors and patricians,

بِمَشمولَةٍ كَالشَمسِ يَغشاكَ نورُها

إِذا ما تَبَدَّت مِن نَواحي المَشارِقِ

Crowned with coral and pearls around her neck,

With chilled wine like the sun—its light overwhelms you

Humming, flushed, enchanting all who see her,

When it breaks forth from the horizons of the east.

لَها تاجُ مَرجانٍ وَإِكليلُ لُؤلُؤٍ

وَتَرنيمُ نَشوانٍ وَصُفرَةُ عاشِقِ

Trailing robes that dazzle every gazer,

It wears a crown of coral and a wreath of pearls,

A fawn with a crown of basil moves around her,

Possessing the hum of the intoxicated and the pallor of a lover.

وَتَسحَبُ أَذيالاً لَها بِكُؤوسِها

تَحارُ لَها الأَبصارُ مِن كُلِّ رامِقِ

King of the meadows with no equal in his gait

It drags its flowing trains within the cups,

When he walks the straight path.

Bewildering the sight of every gazing eye.

يَدورُ بِها ظَبيٌ غَريرٌ مُتَوَّجٌ

بِتاجٍ مِنَ الرَيحانِ مَلكُ القُراطِقِ

On his cheek a scorpion's sting over a rose

A naive gazelle passes it round, crowned

As if two N's from a lover's hand.

With a diadem of basil, a sovereign in tunics.

فَلَيسَ كَمِثلِ الغُصنِ في ثِقلِ رِدفِهِ

إِذا ما مَشى في مُستَقيمِ المَناطِقِ

When she walked by he sang intoxicated, saying:

Unlike the slender bough is he in the heaviness of his hips,

Come give us some wine in goblets!

When he walks, straight in his girded zones.

لَهُ عَقرَبا صُدغٍ عَلى وَردِ خَدِّهِ

كَأَنَّهُما نونانِ مِن كَفِّ ماشِقِ

He has two scorpion-locks upon the rose of his cheek,

As if they were two Nuns drawn by the hand of a scribe.

فَلَمّا جَرَت فيهِ تَغَنّى وَقالَ لي

بِسُكرٍ أَلا هاتِ اسقِنا بِالدَوارِقِ

And when the wine coursed through him, he sang and said to me

In his intoxication: 'Come! Pour for us from the ewers!'