مُعَصفَرَةٌ أَنَختُ بِها

وَقَرنُ الشَمسِ لَم يَغِبِ

A yellow wine I have fermented

when the sun's horn had yet to set

وَقَد أَرِقَت لِفَقدِ الكَر

مِ فيها أَعيُنُ العِنَبِ

The grapes' eyes were sleepless for want

of bubbles rising in the vat.

وَجاشَ عُبابُ واديها

بِمُنهَلٍّ وَمُنسَكِبِ

The valley's run-off gushed and churned

through channel and overflow

وَياقوتُ العَصيرِ بِها

يُلاعِبُ لُؤلُؤَ الحَبَبِ

Ruby juice playing with the pearl

of grain in pleasure's ebb and flow.

فَيا عَجَبي لِعاصِرِها

وَما يُغني بِهِ عَجَبي

But wonder takes me for its own -

and my wonder serves no end.