بادِرْ كُؤوسَك إنمَا هِي أنجمٌ

قدْ أطلعَتْ في أفُق يوْمِكَ سعْدَها

Hasten your cups for they are but stars

That have risen in the horizon of your day, their happiness.

منْ كَف هَيفاء المَعاطِف كلما

أدْمَت فمَ الإبْريقِ أدْمى خدهَا

Whenever the lip of the pitcher kisses

The mouth of the chalice, it kisses its cheek.