زَمَن الرَبيع مطية الأَفراح

وَمعدل الأَرواح في الأَشباح

Springtime is the steed of joys

And the restorer of souls in specters

زَمَن بِهِ لَولا اِشتِباك فَواقع

طارَت حُميانا مِن الأَقداح

A time when, were it not for the clash with reality

Daydreams would have flown from cups