قُلْتُ لِلسّاقِي وَقَدْ طافَ بِها

قَهْوَةً مَصْبُوغَةً مِنْ وَجْنَتَيْهِ

I said to the cupbearer as he carried around

A coffee darkened with dye from his cheeks:

أَتُرى مِنْ دَنِّهِ أَتْرَعَها

أَمْ تُرى أَتْرَعَها مِنْ مُقْلَتَيْهِ

“Does it look like he wet his lips with it

Or do you think his eyelashes wet it?

أَمْ تَراهُ شارِباً مِنْ رِيقِهِ

ضِعْفَ ما يَشْرَبُ قَوْمٌ مِنْ يَدَيْهِ

Or is he drinking from his saliva

Double what people drink from their hands?

فَأَرى أَعْطافَهُ شاهِدَةً

أَنَّهُ قَدْ جارَتِ الْكَأْسُ عَلَيْهِ

So I see his passions bear witness

That the cup was rough with him.

مَنْ يَكُنْ هامَ مِنَ الْوَجْدِ بِهِ

فَلَقَدْ ذُبْتُ مِنَ الشَّوْقِ إِلَيْهِ

Whoever is crazy with rapture for him

I have melted from yearning for him.”