أتذكر والخمار بورك سعيه

يجيء بخيرات العقول ويذهب

I remember when the wine steward blessed be his effort

Would bring the best of minds and leave

ليال لنا بالحانتين كأنها

تسابيح درويش به الشك يلعب

Nights for us in the taverns as if they were

Dervish hymns filled with doubtful play

فلا هي بالقول الذي صح صدقه

ولا هي بالمين الذي نتكذب

Yet they're not the words of certified truth

Nor are they the refuge of our lies