أَيا مَن بَينَ باطِيَةٍ وَزِقٍّ

وَعودٍ في يَدَي غانٍ يُغَنّي

O you who lies between rumpled robes

O you who lingers between the flagon and the wineskin,

And lute held by a tuneful captive maid:

While the lute plays on in a singer's hands,

إِذا لَم تَنهَ نَفسَكَ عَن هَواها

وَتُحسِنُ صَونَها فَإِلَيكَ عَنّي

If you persist in doting on your love

If you do not restrain your soul from its passions,

And treating her so gently--have a care

And guard it well, then keep away from me.

فَإِنّي قَد شَبِعتُ مِنَ المَعاصي

وَمِن لَذّاتِها وَشَبِعنَ مِنّي

For I am filled to overflowing now

For I have surely had my fill of sins,

With sins and their delights. We're quits, I swear!

And of their pleasures—and they have had their fill of me.

وَمَن أَسوا وَأَقبَحُ مِن لَبيبٍ

يُرى مُتَطَرِّباً في مِثلِ سِنّي

What sight more ugly than a dotard lewd

And who is worse, more loathsome than a man of sense,

Who can't restrain himself in ripe old age!

Seen seeking rapture at an age like mine?