أصغَى إليكَ بِكأسهِ مُصغِي

صَلْتُ الجبينِ مُعَقْرَبُ الصّدغِ

Toward you he inclined with his cup, listening—

smooth of brow, his temple-lock curled like a scorpion.

كأسٌ تؤلّفُ بِالمَحَبَّةِ بَيْنَنا

طَوراً وتَنْزغُ أَيَّما نَزْغِ

A cup that joins us together in love

one moment, then tears us apart—what a tearing!

في روضةٍ دَرَجت بزَهرَتِها الصَّبا

والشَّمسُ في دَرجٍ منَ الفَرعِ

In a garden through whose blossoms the east breeze moved,

while the sun rested on stair-like tiers of boughs.

فَاشْرَبْ بِكَفِّ أَغَنَّ عَقْرَبُ صُدْغِهِ

لِلقلبِ مِنْكَ مُمِيتَةُ اللَّدغِ

So drink from the hand of a sweet-voiced one whose lock curls scorpion-like at his temple,

deadly in its sting to the heart within you.