دَعني مِنَ الناسِ وَمِن لَومِهِم

وَاِحسِ اِبنَةَ الكَرمِ مَعَ الحاسي

Leave me be, people and their blames,

Spare me from people and their endless blame,

And feel the daughter of generosity with the conscious one.

And sip the Daughter of the Vine with those who pour.

وَاِبكِ عَلى مافاتَ مِنها وَلا

تَبكِ عَلى رَبعٍ بِأَوطاسِ

And cry over what is lost of it, but do not

Weep for the wine that has passed you by, and do not

Cry over a quarter with utensils.

Waste tears on crumbled ruins found at Awtas.

فَخَمرَةٌ أَنتَ لَهَ رابِحٌ

في حالَتَي يُسرٍ وَإِفلاسِ

You are a wine for it that makes profit

For here is a vintage from which you always gain,

In both ease and insolvency.

Alike in times of wealth and poverty.

رَيحانَةٌ مِن كَفِّ رَيحانَةٍ

تَزهو عَلى الخيرِيِّ وَالآسِ

A basil from the hand of a basil

A scented bloom received from a scented hand,

That blooms over the good and the ugly.

That outshines the gillyflower and the myrtle bough.

يَكادُ يُعطيني جَنى ريقِهِ

مِن فيهِ لَولا رِقبَةُ الناسِ

He almost gives me the fruit of his saliva

He almost grants the nectar of his lips to me,

If not for people watching over.

From his mouth, were it not for the watchful eyes of men.

وَلَيلَةٍ سامَرتُ لَذّاتِها

بِشادِنٍ أَحوَرَ مَيّاسِ

And a night I had fun for its own sake

And many a night I communed with its pure delights,

With a dark-skinned and bent measuring tool.

Beside a fawn, dark-eyed and swaying in his gait.

نَأخُذُ مِن صَهباءَ كَرخِيَّةٍ

نَكتالُها وَزناً بِمِقياسِ

We take some of Karkhiya’s blond

We draw from golden wine, the vintage of Al-Karkh,

Weighing it in measurement with a scale.

Which we weigh out with care upon the scales.

أَشرَبُ مِن ريقَتِهِ مَرَّةً

وَمَرَّةً مِن فُضلَةِ الكاسِ

I drink from his saliva once

At times I drink the nectar of his kiss,

And another time from the cup’s leftovers.

And at times from what remains within the cup.

مَتى يَرُم في سُكرِهِ مَنطِقاً

تَقُل بِهِ خَطرَةُ وَسواسِ

When will he say something drunk

And when, amidst his cups, he seeks to speak,

With which the idea of obsession speaks?

His words become the murmurs of a reverie.

حَتّى اِنثَنى مِثلَ صَريعِ الهَوى

وَالنَومُ قَد عانَقَ جُلّاسي

Until he bent like the paralysis of passion

Until he swooned like one struck down by love,

And sleep hugged my sitting companion.

While sleep embraced my seated drinking friends.

أَسلَسَ لي حَلَّ سَراويلِهِ

مِن بَعدِ إِفضائي إِلى الياسِ

He pulled down his pants for me

He yielded to me the loosening of his strings,

After I appealed to the desperate one.

After I had surrendered to despair.

فَنِلتُ ما ضَنَّ بِهِ صاحِياً

وَالقَلبُ مِنّي جامِحٌ قاسِ

So I got what he was stingy about consciously

I won from him what he withheld while sober,

While my heart was violent and harsh from me.

While my own heart was wild and merciless.

لا خَيرَ في اللَذّاتِ ما لَم يَكُن

صاحِبُها مُنكَشِفَ الراسِ

There is no good in pleasures unless

There is no good in pleasures, if their master

Its companion has a bare head.

Does not pursue them with a bared and brazen head.