بَكَيتُ وَما أَبكي عَلى دِمَنٍ قَفرِ

وَما بِيَ مِن عِشقٍ فَأَبكي مِنَ الهَجرِ

I wept, though not for the traces of desolate ruins,

Nor am I possessed by love, to weep from separation.

وَلَكِن حَديثٌ جاءَنا عَن نَبِيِّنا

فَذاكَ الَّذي أَجرى دُموعي عَلى النَحرِ

But rather for a report that came to us from our Prophet,

That is what caused my tears to stream down my chest:

بِتَحريمِ شُربِ الخَمرِ وَالنَهيُ جاءَنا

فَلَمّا نَهى عَنها بَكيتُ عَلى الخَمرِ

The prohibition of drinking wine—for the ban has come to us,

And when he forbade it, I wept for the wine.

فَأَشرَبُها صِرفاً وَأَعلَمُ أَنَّني

أَعَزَّرُ فيها بِالثَمانينَ في ظَهري

So I drink it pure, though I know well that I

Will be chastised for it with eighty lashes upon my back.