لا تَمزُجِ الخَمرَ عَلى حالٍ

وَسَقِّنيها بِنتَ أَحوالِ

Do not mix the wine under any circumstance,

But serve it to me pure, the daughter of the ages;

عَتَّقَها الكُردِيُّ في مَجلِسٍ

بَينَ بَساتينَ وَأَجبالِ

The Kurd matured it in his dwelling,

Nestled between orchards and mountains.

ثُمَّ أَتانا ناكِساً رَأسَهُ

مُنحَدِراً مِن مَرقَبٍ عالِ

Then he came to us, bowing his head,

Descending from a high watchtower,

إِبريقُهُ في كَفِّهِ مُترَعٌ

مُغتَرِفٌ مِن ذَوبِ جِريالِ

His pitcher in his hand, filled to the brim,

Pouring out molten red gold.

نَأخُذُها مِن كَفِّ ذي غُنَّةٍ

كَأَنَّما خُطَّ بِتِمثالِ

We take it from the hand of one with a soft, melodious voice,

As though he were etched like a statue.

يَسقيكَ بِالعَينَينِ خَمراً إِذا

ناغاكَ بِالكَأسِ بِإِعجالِ

He serves you wine with his eyes whenever

He swiftly whispers to you over the cup.

لَيسَ بِمُحتاجٍ إِلى مِكحَلٍ

وَلا دَماليجَ وَخِلخالِ

He has no need for a kohl-stick,

Nor for armbands or anklets.

خالٌ بِهِ في خَدِّهِ واضِحٌ

وابِأَبي ذَلِكَ مِن خالِ

A beauty mark upon his cheek is clearly drawn;

And may my father be ransom for such a mark!