أَخي قَد مَضى مِن لَيلِنا الثُلُثانِ

وَنَحنُ لِنَجمِ الصُبحِ مُنتَظِرانِ

My brother, two thirds of our night has passed

My brother, two-thirds of our night have passed away,

And we both await the morning star

And here we remain, awaiting the star of the dawn.

فَصَوِّب مِنَ الإِبريقِ في الكَأسِ شُربَةً

يُعَلُّ بِها قَلبانِ مُختَلِفانِ

So pour from the pitcher into the goblets a drink

So direct the pitcher and pour into the cup a draught,

That will lift two different hearts

By which two hearts of different kinds may be refreshed.

تَوَثَّبُ عِندَ المَزجِ في صَحنِ كَأسِهِ

تَوَثُّبَ صَعبِ الرَأسِ يَومَ رِهانِ

They will throb as they blend within the bowl of his goblet

It leaps when mingled within the hollow of the bowl,

The throb of a sore head on a day of reckoning

Like the leaping of a headstrong steed on the day of the race.

تُنادي بِهَمّي تارَةً وَبِهَمِّهِ

أَلا خَلِّيا قَلبَيهِما يَرِمانِ

At times it will call out my worries, at others his

It calls out to my sorrow at times, and then to his,

Oh let their two hearts cast away sorrow!

Crying: "Let be, and leave their two hearts to swell!"

وَلا تُعفِني مِنها وَإِن قُلتُ إِنَّني

فَتىً لَيسَ لي بِالخَندَريسِ يَدانِ

And do not deny it me even if I say I’m a lad

And do not spare me from it, even if I protest,

With no skill at the two-stringed lute

"I am a lad with no strength to master old wine."

وَذي كَفَلٍ رابي المَجَسَّ إِذا مَشى

تَزِلُّ بِهِ مِن ثِقلِهِ القَدَمانِ

One whose shoulders bear his crutch when he walks

And for the sake of one with heavy haunches, firm to the touch,

His two feet stumble with its weight

Whose feet nearly stumble from the weight when he walks—

أَخَذتُ بِهَذَينِ الأَمانَ مِنَ الأَذى

وَلا خَيرَ في عَيشٍ بِغَيرِ أَمانِ

With these two trusts I’m spared harm

Through these two, I have seized a sanctuary from harm,

No good in a life without safety’s assurance

And there is no good in a life devoid of sanctuary.