وَحُقَّةِ مِسكٍ مِن نِسَاءٍ لبستُهَا

شَبَابي وَكأسٍ بَاكَرَتني شَمُولُهَا

A flask of musk I donned, from ladies worn,

Whose youth recalled the draught that cheered me then,

جَدِيدَةُ سِربَالِ الشَّبَابِ كَأنِّهَا

سَقِيَّةُ بَردِيٍّ نَمَتهَا غيُوُلُها

Like raiment new of spirit young and light

That clothes the branch a pool has laved again.

ومُخمَلَةٍ بِاللَّحمِ مِن دُونِ ثَوبِها

تَطُولُ القِصَارَ وَالطِّوَالُ تَطُولُها

In plumèd silk the ripeness of her flesh,

Long, lithe, and smooth, no shift to hide or shroud.

كأنَّ دِمَقساً أو فُروعَ غَمامَةٍ

عَلَى متَنها حَيثُ استَقَرَّ جَدِيلُهَا

As though that graceful swaying were a breeze

Amongst Damascan branches dimly bowed,

وأبيَضَ منقُوفٍ وَزِقٍ وقَينَةٍ

وَصَهبَاءَ في بَيضَاءَ بَادٍ حُجُولُها

Or clouds above a new moon’s crescent pale,

Or fleecy lambs that flock in pasture proud,

إِذَا صبَّ في الراوُوقِ مِنهَا تَضَوَّعَت

كُمَيتُّ يُلِذُّ الشَّارِبِينَ قَلِيلُها

When dewdrops in the pitcher she distils

Sipped by the drinkers, as her gifts allow.