دَعني مِنَ الدارِ أَبكيها وَأَرثيها

إِذا خَلَت مِن حَبيبٍ لي مَغانيها

Stop speaking to me of the ruins, weeping over them and mourning,

If their dwelling-places are empty of a beloved of mine.

ذَرِ الرَوامِسَ تَمحو كُلَّما دَرَسَت

آثارُها وَدَعِ الأَمطارَ تَبكيها

Let the burying winds erase whatever traces have faded,

And leave the falling rains to weep over them.

إِن كانَ فيها الَّذي أَهوى أَقَمتُ بِها

وَإِن عَداها فَإِنّي سَوفَ أَقليها

If the one I desire were there, I would have remained,

But since he has passed them by, I shall surely loathe them.

أَحَقُّ مَنزِلَةٍ بِالتَركِ مَنزِلَةٌ

تَعَطَّلَت مِن هَوىً عِلقٍ لِأَهليها

The dwelling most deserving of abandonment is one

That has become void of a precious love for its inhabitants.

أَمكَنتُ عاذِلَتي في الخَمرِ مِن أُذُنٍ

يُغني صَداها جَواباً مَن يُناديها

I lent my scolding critic an ear regarding wine

Whose hollow echo simply sings back to whoever calls.

أَقولُ لَمّا أَدارَ الكَأسَ لي قُثَمٌ

الآنَ حينَ تَعاطى القَوسَ باريها

I said when Qutham circulated the cup to me:

"Now the bow has been placed in the hands of its master."

يا أَلبَقَ الناسِ كَفّاً حينَ يَمزُجُها

وَحينَ يَشرَبُها صِرفاً وَيَسقيها

O most skillful of hands when mixing the draught,

And when drinking it pure or serving it to others!

قَد قُمتُ فيها عَلى حَدٍّ يُوافِقُنا

وَهَكَذا فَأَدِرها بَينَنا إيها

You have settled upon a blend that suits us perfectly;

Just so, pass it around between us—come on!

إِن كانَتِ الخَمرُ لِلأَلبابِ سالِبَةً

فَإِنَّ عَينَيكَ تَجري في مَجاريها

If wine is truly a thief of reason,

Then your eyes surely flow in its very channels.

في مُقلَتَيكَ صِفاتُ السِحرِ ناطِقَةٌ

بِاللَفظِ واحِدَةٌ شَتّى مَعانيها

In your eyes, the attributes of magic speak clearly;

Singular in expression, yet diverse in their meanings.

فَاِشرَب لَعَلَّكَ أَن تَحظى بِسَكرَتِها

فَالشَأنُ إِن ساعَدَتنا سَكرَةٌ فيها

So drink, that you might perhaps attain its intoxication,

For our goal is that a drunkenness therein might aid us.

وَمُخطَفِ الخَصرِ في أَردافِهِ عَمَمٌ

يَميسُ في حُلَّةٍ رَقَّت حَواشيها

And many a slender-waisted one, whose buttocks are full,

Swaying in a garment with delicate borders—

إِذا نَظَرتُ إِلَيهِ تاهَ عَن نَظَري

فَإِن تَزَيَّدتُ دَلّاً زادَني تيها

If I look at him, he haughtily turns from my gaze;

And if I feign indifference, he treats me with greater pride.

عاطَيتُهُ وَضِياءُ الصُبحِ مُتَّصِلٌ

بِظُلمَةِ اللَيلِ أَو قَد كانَ يُضويها

I shared the cup with him while the light of dawn was joined

To the darkness of night—or perhaps the wine was illuminating it—

كَأساً كَأَنَّ دَبيبَ النَملِ فَترَتُها

لَديغُها يَشتَفي مِن نَفثِ راقيها

A cup whose languor creeps like the crawling of ants;

Its victim finds the cure in the breath of the charmer.

فَلَم نَزَل نَتَعاطى الكَأسَ مُذهَبَةً

كَأَنَّ طَوقَ جُمانٍ في نَواحيها

We ceased not to pass the golden cup between us,

As if a necklace of pearls encircled its rim.

حَتّى إِذا أَلبَسَتهُ الكَأسُ حُلَّتَها

وَنامَ شارِبُها سُكراً وَساقيها

Until, when the cup had clothed him in its raiment,

And both its drinker and its server slept in intoxication,

كَتَبتُ في غَيرِ قِرطاسٍ بِلا قَلَمٍ

في حاجَةٍ عَرَضَت لي لا أُسَمّيها

I wrote upon something other than paper, without a pen,

Of a sudden need that seized me—one I shall not name.

فَقامَ يوسِعُني شَتماً وَأوسِعُهُ

حِلماً وَقَد بَلَغَت نَفسي أَمانيها

He rose to shower me with insults, while I showered him

With forbearance, for my soul had attained its desires.

صَنائِعُ الخَمرِ عِندي غَيرُ ضائِعَةٍ

حَتّى يَقومَ بِها شُكري فَيَجزيها

The favors bestowed by wine are never wasted on me,

For my gratitude stands ready to repay them in full.