سَلِ الكَأسَ تَزهو بَينَ صَبغٍ وَإِشراقِ

أَذُوِّبَ فيها الوَردُ أَم وَجنَةُ الساقي

Ask the cup, gleaming between dawn and sunrise:

What melts more deeply within it—the rose, or the cupbearer’s cheek?

كُؤوسٌ تُحَيِيها النُفوسُ كَأَنَّها

حَديثُ تَلاقٍ في مَسامِعِ عُشّاقِ

Cups that souls bring to life, as though they were

gardens of encounter in lovers’ hearing.

إِذا قَتَلوها بِالمِزاجِ لِيَشرَبوا

أَعاشوا مُناهُم بَينَ مَوتٍ وَإِخلاقِ

When they kiss them with mixing-water before they drink,

they revive their desires between death and frustration.

تَثورُ كَأَنَّ الماءَ يَلسَعُ صِرفَها

وَصَوتُ المُغَنّي مِثلُ هَينَمَةِ الراقي

It surges, as though the water stung its pure essence,

while the singer’s voice is like an enchanter’s murmuring.

بِموسى إِذا ماشِئتَ سُكرِيَ غَنِّ لي

وَأَدهِق كُؤوسَ الخَمرِ أَيَّةَ إِدهاقِ

Sing to me of Mūsā, if you desire a double intoxication,

and brim the cups with wine—what a brimming!

وَإِن شِئتَ إِعجازاً ضَرَبتَ بِذِكرِهِ

فُؤادي فَفَجَّرتَ العُيونَ بِآماقي

And if you wished for a miracle, with mention of him you struck

my heart, and made springs burst from the corners of my eyes.

يُصاعِدُ أَنفاسي ضُحىً نَفَسَ الصَبا

وَيَقدَحُ في الأَحشاءِ نيرانَ أَشواقي

At forenoon the zephyr’s breath sends my sighs aloft

and kindles the fires of my longing in my innermost parts.

إِذا أَنا حَمَّلتُ البَليلَ صَبابَتي

غَدَت كَسُمومِ الفَتكِ لَفحَةَ إِحراقِ

When I burden the moist breeze with my passion,

it becomes the deadly simoom—a scorching blast.

وَتَعرِفُ مِنّي الريحُ زَفرَةَ عاشِقٍ

وَيَفهَمُ مِنّي البَرقُ نَظرَةَ مُشتاقِ

The wind recognizes in me the sigh of a lover,

and lightning understands in me the gaze of one who yearns.