أَعاذِلُ ما عَلى مِثلي سَبيلُ

وَعَذلُكَ في المُدامَةِ يَستَحيلُ

I'm blamed for what's not my way,

O blamer, you have no sway over a soul like mine,

And your blaming wine's not right.

And your censure regarding the old wine is utterly in vain.

أَعاذِلُ لا تَلُمني في هَواها

فَإِنَّ عِتابَنا فيها يَطولُ

Don't blame my love, my dear,

O critic, do not rebuke me for my passion for her,

Our blame would just prolong.

For our dispute regarding this would stretch on endlessly.

كِلانا يَدَّعي في الخَمرِ عِلماً

فَدَعني لا أَقولُ وَلا تَقولُ

We both claim knowledge of wine;

We both lay claim to wisdom concerning the vine,

Let me be quiet, you be tight.

So leave me be; speak not, and I shall say no more.

أَلَيسَ مَطِيَّتي حِقوَي غُلامٍ

وَرَحلَ أَنامِلي كَأسٌ شَمولُ

Is not my steed a slave boy's rag?

Is not my steed the slender flanks of a young lad,

My camel bags are drinking mugs.

And the reins within my fingers a cup of chilled vintage?

إِذا كانَت بَناتُ الكَرمِ شُربي

وَقِبلَةَ وَجهِيَ الحُسنُ الجَميلُ

When grapes give freely of their wine,

If the daughters of the vineyard are my chosen potion,

My fair face is their drinking cup.

And the prayer-niche of my gaze is Beauty most fair,

أَمِنتُ بِذَينِ عاقِبَةَ اللَيالي

وَهانَ عَلَيَّ ما قالَ العَذولُ

I fear not what nights have in store,

Then by these two, I am secure against the turns of Fate,

No matter what the slanderer's said.

And lightly weighs upon me whatever the critic says.

وَمُعتَدِلٍ إِلَيَّ بِشَطرِ عَينٍ

لَهُ مِن كَسرِ ناظِرِهِ رَسولُ

And she whose eyes incline to me

And many a balanced form leans toward me with a sidelong glance,

Sends glances that bear messages.

Sending a silent messenger through the languor of his eye.

صَرَفتُ الكَأسَ عَنهُ حينَ غَنّى

وَأَنَّ لِسانَهُ مِنها ثَقيلُ

I turned the cup from him when he sang,

I turned the goblet away from him the moment that he sang,

His tongue made heavy by the wine.

For I perceived his tongue had grown heavy from the draught.

أَرِحني قَد تَرَفَّعَتِ الثُرَيّا

وَغالَت جُنحَ لَيلي عَنكَ غولُ

Leave me, the Pleiades have risen high,

Grant me relief, for the Pleiades have ascended high,

My night has spread its wings, farewell!

And a demon of the dawn has snatched the wing of my night from thee.