شَرِبنا عَصيرَ الكَرمِ تَحتَ ظِلالِهِ

عَلى وَجهِ مَعشوقِ الشَمائِلِ أَغيَدِ

We drank the vineyard's juice beneath its shade

Upon the cheek of my love of perfect grace

كَأَنَّ عَناقيدَ الكُرومِ وَظِلَّها

كَواكِبُ دُرٍّ في سَماءِ زَبَرجَدِ

As though the clusters and the leaves were made

Of stars of pearl in dome of turquoise lace