قَرُبَت مِنَ الفِعلِ الكَريمِ يَداكا

وَنَأى عَلى المُتَطَلِّبينَ مَداكا

Your hands are ever close to noble deeds,

while your farthest reach eludes all who aspire.

فَاِسلَم أَبا نوحٍ لِتَشييدِ العُلا

وَفَداكَ مِن صَرفِ الزَمانِ عِداكا

Live safe, Abu Nuh, to raise the heights of glory;

may your foes ransom you from Fortune’s turns.

إِنّي لَأُضمِرُ لِلرَبيعِ مَحَبَّةً

إِذ كُنتُ أَعتَدُ الرَبيعَ أَخاكا

Indeed, I harbor love for Spring,

since I have always counted Spring your brother.

وَأَراكَ بِالعَينِ الَّتي لَم تَنصَرِف

أَلحاظُها إِلّا إِلى نُعماكا

I behold you with an eye whose glances

have never turned except toward your favors.

ما لِلمُدامِ تَأَخَّرَت عَن فِتيَةٍ

عَزَموا السَبوحَ وَأَمَّلوا جَدواكا

Why has the wine been slow to reach young men

resolved upon the morning draught and hoping for your bounty?

بَكَرَت لَهُم سُقيا السَحابِ وَقَصَّرَت

عَنهُم أَوانَ تَعِلَّةٍ سُقياكا

The rain cloud’s watering came early to them, yet

your cup, at the hour of refreshment, held back from them.

ما كانَ صَوبُ المُزنِ يَطمَعُ قَبلَها

في أَن يَجيءَ نَداهُ قَبلَ نَداكا

Never before did the rain cloud’s downpour dream

that its largesse might arrive before your own.

وَلَدَيكَ صافِيَةٌ كَأَنَّ نَسيمَها

مِن طيبِ عَرفِكَ أَو جَميلِ نَثاكا

You have a limpid wine whose breath seems born

of your sweet fragrance or your lovely renown.

وَكَأَنَّ بِشرَكَ في شُعاعِ كُؤوسِها

لَمّا تَوالَت في الأَكُفِّ دِراكا

As though your smiling welcome gleamed within the radiance of its cups

when, one upon another, they passed through the hands.

تَجلو بِرَونَقِها العُيونَ إِذا بَدَت

رِسلاً وَنَشرَبُها عَلى ذِكراكا

Its brilliance clears the eyes when it appears

in gentle succession; we drink it in remembrance of you.

يُغني النَديمَ عَنِ الغِناءِ حَديثُنا

بِمَحاسِنٍ لَكَ لَم تَكُن لِسِواكا

Our talk spares the drinking companion any need for song—

it tells of virtues yours alone, possessed by none besides.