غَدَوتُ عَلى اللَذّاتِ مُنهَتِكُ السِترِ

وَأَفضَت بَناتُ السِرِّ مِنّي إِلى الجَهرِ

I set out for pleasure with the veil of modesty torn away,

And my hidden secrets passed from within me into the open.

وَهانَ عَلَيَّ الناسُ فيما إِريدُهُ

بِما جِئتُ فَاستَغنَيتُ عَن طَلَبِ العُذرِ

People became insignificant to me in the pursuit of my desire,

For given my deeds, I dispensed with seeking any excuse.

رَأيتُ اللَيالي مُرصِداتٍ لِمُدَّتي

فَبادَرتُ لَذّاتي مُبادَرَةَ الدَهرِ

I saw the nights lying in wait for the end of my time,

So I raced toward my pleasures, vying against time itself.

رَضيتُ مِنَ الدُنيا بِكَأسٍ وَشادِنٍ

تَحَيَّرُ في تَفضيلِهِ فِطَنُ الفِكرِ

I was content in this world with a wine cup and a young gazelle,

About whose excellence the sharpest minds are bewildered.

مُدامٌ رَبَت في حِجرِ نوحٍ يُديرُها

عَلَيَّ ثَقيلُ الرِدفِ مُضطَمِرُ الخَصرِ

Aged wine, raised in Noah’s lap, passed round to me

By one with heavy hips and a slender waist;

صَحيحٌ مَريضُ الجَفنِ مُدنٍ مُباعِدٌ

يُميتُ وَيُحيِي بِالوِصالِ وَبِالهَجرِ

Sound of body yet languid of eyelid; approaching, then keeping distance,

He deals death and life through union and abandonment.

كَأَنَّ ضِياءَ الشَمسِ نيطَ بِوَجهِهِ

وَبَدرُ الدُجى بَينَ التَرائِبِ وَالنَحرِ

It is as though the sun’s radiance were fastened to his face,

And the full moon of darkness lay between his collarbone and throat.

إِذا ما بَدَت أَزرارُ جَيبِ قَميصِهِ

تَطَلَّعَ مِنها صورَةُ القَمَرِ البَدرِ

Whenever the buttons of his shirt collar are undone,

The image of the full bright moon gazes out from within.

فَأَحسَنُ مِن رَكضٍ إِلى حَومَةِ الوَغى

وَأَحسَنُ عِندي مِن خُروجٍ إِلى النَحرِ

For this is far better than galloping into the thick of battle,

And better in my eyes than marching out to the slaughter.

فَلا خَيرَ في قَومٍ تَدورُ عَلَيهِمُ

كُؤوسُ المَنايا بِالمُثَقَّفَةِ السُمرِ

There is no good in a people amongst whom circulate

The cups of death, served on brown, straightened spears,

تَحِيّاتُهُم في كُلِّ يَومٍ وَلَيلَةٍ

ظُبى المَشرَفِيّاتِ المُزيرَةِ لِلقَبرِ

Whose greetings to one another, through every day and night,

Are the blades of Mashrifi swords that dispatch one to the grave.