إِذاwhen اِبتَدَأَbegins الساقيthe cupbearer وَثَنّىand serves a second round وَثَلَّثاand serves a third round
إِذا اِبتَدَأَ الساقي وَثَنّى وَثَلَّثا
وَجَسَّand plucked لَناfor us الشادونَthe singers مَثنىthe second string وَمَثلَثاand the third string
وَجَسَّ لَنا الشادونَ مَثنى وَمَثلَثا
When the cupbearer serves a first round, then a second and a third,
When the cupbearer began with one and two and three,
And the singers pluck the second and third strings for us,
And poured for us delicious wine, one and two and three,
وَهَبَّand rose لَناfor us شادٍa singer حَكىresembled الغُصنَthe bough قَدُّهُhis figure
وَهَبَّ لَنا شادٍ حَكى الغُصنَ قَدُّهُ
يُرَدِّدُmoves back and forth طَرفاًa gaze صامِتاًsilent مُتَحَدِّثاspeaking
يُرَدِّدُ طَرفاً صامِتاً مُتَحَدِّثا
And a singer rises for us, his figure like a bough,
He offered us wine that told of the vine branch's nape,
Turning a gaze that is silent yet speaks.
Repeating a silent glance that speaks,
أَخوpossessed of نَشطَةٍvigor فَحلُvirile اللِحاظِthe glances مُذَكَّرٌmale
أَخو نَشطَةٍ فَحلُ اللِحاظِ مُذَكَّرٌ
يُخالُis thought لِتَرخيمِbecause of the softening of الكَلامِthe speech مُؤَنَّثاfemale
يُخالُ لِتَرخيمِ الكَلامِ مُؤَنَّثا
Full of vigor, virile in his glances, male,
A brother to vitality, his words masculine in eloquence
Yet taken for female because of the softness of his speech.
Yet feminine in their gentle murmuring,
إِذاwhen لَحظُهُhis glance أَوor لَفظُهُhis speech ظَلَّkept نافِثاًbreathing forth
إِذا لَحظُهُ أَو لَفظُهُ ظَلَّ نافِثاً
بِسِحرٍwith magic لَناfor us لَمdid not نَدرِwe know مَنwhich one كانَwas أَنفَثاmore potent at breathing spells
بِسِحرٍ لَنا لَم نَدرِ مَن كانَ أَنفَثا
When his glance or his speech keeps breathing
His glance or voice, remaining devoted,
Magic upon us, we cannot tell which breathes it more potently.
With a magic unknown to us who has cast the spell,
فَيُنشِدُthen he recites مِنfrom شِعريmy poetry رَقيقاًdelicate مُخَمَّساًin five-line stanzas
فَيُنشِدُ مِن شِعري رَقيقاً مُخَمَّساً
وَيَرشُفُand he sips مِنfrom خَمريmy wine رَحيقاًpure wine مُثَلَّثاboiled down to one third
وَيَرشُفُ مِن خَمري رَحيقاً مُثَلَّثا
Then he recites tender five-line stanzas from my poetry,
Then he recites for me tender quintets of verse
And sips my pure wine, boiled down to a third.
And sips from my wine the gentle triplets,
وَيَمزُجُand he blends ليfor me فيin الكَأسِthe cup بِكراًa virgin wine قَديمَةًaged
وَيَمزُجُ لي في الكَأسِ بِكراً قَديمَةً
تَخالُyou would think خِباهاher tent مِنfrom جَنىthe harvest of النَحلِthe bees مُحدَثاnewly made
تَخالُ خِباها مِن جَنى النَحلِ مُحدَثا
And blends for me in the cup a long-aged virgin wine,
And mixes for me in the cup fresh and aged
You would think her tent freshly fashioned from the bees' harvest.
Their aromas from the combs of bees renewing,
إِذاwhen بَسَمَتshe smiles لِلهَمِّat care راحَit departs مُقَطِّباًfrowning
إِذا بَسَمَت لِلهَمِّ راحَ مُقَطِّباً
وَإِنand if سَفَرَتshe unveils herself لِلحُزنِto grief سارَit departs مُحَثحِثاhastening
وَإِن سَفَرَت لِلحُزنِ سارَ مُحَثحِثا
When she smiles at care, it departs frowning,
When it smiles away cares, they depart grieving,
And if she unveils herself to grief, it hurries away.
And when it journeys to sorrow, they come whispering,
فَلاso do not تَخَلنيthink me إِنif طِرتُI soar بِالسُكرِwith drunkenness تائِهاًlost
فَلا تَخَلني إِن طِرتُ بِالسُكرِ تائِهاً
أَرومُI seek بِأَهدابِto the eyelashes of النُجومِthe stars تَشَبُّثاclinging
أَرومُ بِأَهدابِ النُجومِ تَشَبُّثا
So do not think me lost if I soar with drunkenness,
So leave me not, if I wander drunk and lost,
Seeking to cling to the eyelashes of the stars.
Gazing up at the folds of stars clinging,
وَلاnor أَنthat تَرانيyou see me تائِهَdistracted العَقلِthe mind طائِشاًreckless
وَلا أَن تَراني تائِهَ العَقلِ طائِشاً
أَرىI deem الرُشدَgood sense عِنديin my view أَنto أَقولَI speak وَأَعبَثاand I make merry
أَرى الرُشدَ عِندي أَن أَقولَ وَأَعبَثا
Nor suppose that you see me distracted and reckless of mind;
Nor when you see me lost of mind, crazed,
I deem it good sense to speak and make merry.
Taking madness as the sanity in me raving,
وَلاnor أَنثَنيI turn away عَنfrom حالَةٍa state وَأُعيدُهاand I resume it
وَلا أَنثَني عَن حالَةٍ وَأُعيدُها
وَأُقسِمُand I swear أَنّيthat I لاnot أَعودُI return وَأَحنَثاand I break my oath
وَأُقسِمُ أَنّي لا أَعودُ وَأَحنَثا
Nor do I forsake a state only to resume it,
Nor make me turn from a state and then renew it,
And swear I will not return, then break my oath.
Vowing never to return to it betraying,
فَماfor ... is not العُمرُlife إِلّاexcept مِثلُlike خَطفَةِthe swift dart of طائِرٍa bird
فَما العُمرُ إِلّا مِثلُ خَطفَةِ طائِرٍ
يَمُرُّit passes سَريعاًswiftly لاnot يُطيقُit can bear تَلَبُّثاlingering
يَمُرُّ سَريعاً لا يُطيقُ تَلَبُّثا
For life is only like a bird's swift dart,
For life is but like the swoop of a bird on the wing,
It passes quickly, unable to linger.
Passing quickly, unable to resist delaying.
لِذَلِكَfor that reason إِنّيindeed I أَنهَبُI plunder العَيشَlife قاطِعاًplucking
لِذَلِكَ إِنّي أَنهَبُ العَيشَ قاطِعاً
ثِمارَthe fruits of المُنىdesires حَتّىuntil أَموتَI die وَأُبعَثاand I am raised again
ثِمارَ المُنى حَتّى أَموتَ وَأُبعَثا
That is why I plunder life, plucking
For that, I seize life decisively,
The fruits of desire, until I die and am raised again.
Plucking the fruits of wishes till I die and rise reborn.
Sol 6.1