دَع لِباكيها الدِيارا

وَاِنفِ بِالخَمرِ الخُمارا

Leave the ruins to the one who weeps for them,

And banish your hangover with wine.

وَاِشرَبَنها مِن كُمَيتٍ

تَدَعُ اللَيلَ نَهارا

Drink deeply of a dark red vintage,

That turns the night into day.

بِنتُ عَشرٍ لَم تُعايِن

غَيرَ نارِ الشَمسِ نارا

A daughter of ten years, who has witnessed

No fire other than the fire of the sun.

لَم تَزَل في قَعرِ دَنٍّ

مُشعَرٍ زِفتاً وَقارا

She remained continuously in the depths of a cask,

Lined with pitch and tar.

ثُمَّ شُجَّت فَأَدارَت

فَوقَها طَوقاً فَدارا

Then, when broached and mixed, she formed

A ring of foam upon her surface that spun around,

كَاِقتِرانِ الدُرِّ بِالدُر

رِ صِغاراً وَكِبارا

Like the joining of pearls with pearls,

Both small and large.

فَإِذا ما اِعتَرَضَتهُ ال

عَينُ مِن حَيثُ اِستَدارا

And when the eye intercepts it

From the angle where it circles,

خِلتَهُ في جَنَباتِ ال

كَأسِ واواتٍ صِغارا

You would imagine, along the sides of the cup,

Small letters of 'Waw'.

مِن يَدَي ساقٍ ظَريفٍ

كَسِيَ الحُسنَ شِعارا

From the hands of a charming cupbearer,

Who is clothed in beauty as a garment.

يَقتَري القَومَ بِكَأسٍ

تُلبِسُ الخَمرَ إِزارا

He attends to the company with a cup

That cloaks the wine like a robe.

فَإِذا ما سَلسَلوها

أَحذَتِ العَينَ اِحمِرارا

And when they poured it smoothly out,

It cast a redness upon the eye.

وَمُغَنٍّ كُلَّما شِئ

تُ تَغَنّى وَأَشارا

And there was a singer who, whenever I wished,

Would sing and gesture;

رَفَعَ الصَوتَ بِصَوتٍ

هاجَ لِلقَلبِ اِدِّكارا

He raised his voice with a melody

That stirred memories in the heart:

صاحِ هَل أَبصَرتَ بِالخي

تينِ مِن أَسماءِ نارا

"O friend, did you catch sight at Al-Khaitan"

"Of a fire belonging to Asma?"