وَقَهوَةٍ باكَرتُها سُحرَةً

وَالصُبحُ قَد أَسفَرَ في لوحِه

And a wine I approached at early dawn,

When the morning had unveiled its light upon its tablet,

حَمراءُ تَصفَرُّ إِذا شُعشِعَت

أَلطَفُ في الشارِبِ مِن روحِه

Red, turning to gold when diluted,

More delicate within the drinker than his own spirit,

شَيَّعَ ريحَ الوَردِ أَرواحُها

وَريحُها أَطيَبُ مِن ريحِه

Its aromas accompanied the scent of the rose,

Yet its fragrance is sweeter than the rose's scent.