خُذوا منَ العَيشِ فَالأَعمارُ فاتِيَةٌ

وَالدَهرُ مُنصَرِفٌ وَالعَيشُ مُنقَرِضُ

Take from life as life spans swiftly pass

Time turns as life’s joys fade and will not last

في حامِلِ الكَأسِ مِن بَدرِ الدُجى خَلَفُ

وَفي المُدامَةِ مِن شَمسِ الضُحى عِوَضُ

In the wine-bearer’s cup as night gives way

Lies recompense for the light of morning’s day

كَأَنَّ نَجمَ الثُرَيّا كَفُّ ذي كَرَمٍ

مَبسوطَةٌ لِلعَطايا لَيسَ تَنقَبِضُ

Like the Pleiades, the generous man’s palm

Stays open, giving, it does not withdraw