زَمْزِمِي الْكَأْسَ وَهَاتِي

واسْقِنِيهَا يا مَهاتِي

Pour me a cup, my mother,

And serve it to me,

وامْزُجِيهَا بِرُضابٍ

مِنْكِ مَعْسُولِ اللَّهاةِ

Mix it with the nectar

Of your sweet welcome.

إِنَّما الرَّاحُ مَدارُ الْ

أُنْسِ فِي كُلِّ الجِهَاتِ

For wine is the pivot

Of joy in every quarter;

طَالَما عَاصَيْتُ فِيهَا

أَهْلَ وُدِّي وَنُهَاتِي

Long have I disobeyed

My family and dear ones;

لا أُبالِي فِي هَواهَا

بِسَمَاعِ التُّرَّهَاتِ

I care not what I hear

From the mouths of blamers,

كَيْفَ أَخْشَى قَوْلَ دَاهٍ

أَنا مِنْ قَوْمٍ دُهاةِ

How can I fear the words

Of a slanderer? I am of a daring tribe.