وَمُعتَلِّ المَواعِدِ ذي مِكاسِ

مَليٍّ بِالتَأَبّي وَالشِماسِ

The suitor of trysts with revelry and jest

Full of whimsy and bravado does attest

يُنادي في الهَوى قَلباً جَباناً

تَرَجَّحَ بَينَ أَطماعٍ وَياسِ

To a cowardly heart lost in love's sweet throes

Torn between hope and despair which way it goes

لَنا في وَجهِهِ بُستانُ حُسنٍ

مُباحٍ لِلعُيونِ بَلا مِساسِ

His face, a garden of beauty we're allowed

To let our eyes wander without being cowed

سَقاني الراحَ مِن يَدِهِ هَجيراً

وَفي أَجفانِهِ مَرُّ النِعاسِ

He poured me from his hand a draught so pure

As his lids weighed down with sleep insecure

وَيُسراهُ مُقَرطَقَةٌ بِكوزٍ

وَيُمناهُ مُتَوَّجَةٌ بِكاسِ

To his right, a maiden with a pitcher leans

To his left, another offers wine it seems