بِنَفسِيَ مُستَسلِمٌ لِلرُقادِ

يُحَدِّثُني السُكرُ مِن طَرفِهِ

With myself surrendered to slumber

Inebriation speaks to me in its own tongue

سَريعٌ إِلى الأَرضِ مِن حينِهِ

بَطيءٌ إِلى الكَأسِ مِن كَفِّهِ

Quick to the ground at its very moment

Slow to the glass from its grasp