للَّه دَرُّ عصابَةٍ نَزَلوا

بَينَ الرّياضِ مَجالساً خُضْرا

Praise be to a group who descended

Between gardens, seated on green rugs

شَرِبوا بِكَاساتٍ مُعَتَّقَةً

شَرِبَت عُقولُهُمُ بِها سَكرا

They drank from aged cups

Their minds intoxicated by its wine

وكأنّما الأقمارُ تلثمُ من

أيدي السقاةِ كواكباً زُهْرا

As if the moons were kissing

Stars from the cupbearers' hands

وكأنّما صُوَرُ القِنانِ وقد

مُلِئت إلى لَهواتِها خَمرا

As if the images on the jugs

Were filled to their brims with wine

بيضُ الحسان وَقَفْنَ في عُرُسٍ

لمَّا لَبِسْنَ غَلائِلاً حُمرا

The beautiful women stood at a wedding

When they wore red veils