يا حُسْنَها صَفْراءَ ذاتَ تَلَهُّبٍ

كَالنّارِ إلاّ أَنَّها لا تَلْفَحُ

O beautiful blonde, passionately ablaze

Like fire though no sparks she raises

عاطَيْتَنِيها وَالمِزْاجُ يَرُوضُها

وَكَأَنَّها فِي الْكَأْسِ طِرْفٌ يَجْمَحُ

You gave her to me, the drink is perfect

As if in the glass, a glance that connects

وَتَضَوَّعَتْ مِسْكِيَّةً فَكَأَنَّها

مِنْ نَشْرِ عِرْضِكَ أَوْ ثَنائِكَ تَنْفَحُ

Her breath is musky, it seems she exhales

From your hips’ swaying or your praises she inhales