كتبتُ بها في يوم لهوٍ وهَامتي

كتبتُ بها في يوم لهوٍ وهَامتي

تمارسُ من أهوالهِ ما تُمارسُ

تمارسُ من أهوالهِ ما تُمارسُ

I wrote there on a day of revelry, while my head

I wrote with it one day in play and rapture

grappled with whatever terrors of that day it grappled with.

It practices of its terrors what it practices

وعندي رجالٌ للمجون ترجَّلَت

وعندي رجالٌ للمجون ترجَّلَت

عَمَائِمُهُم عن هامِهم والطَّيالسُ

عَمَائِمُهُم عن هامِهم والطَّيالسُ

And with me were men; for debauchery, off had slipped

And I have men for revelry who have become nimble

their turbans from their heads, and their mantles too.

Their turbans slipped from their foreheads, and the slippers

فللراح ما زُرَّت عليه جيوبَها

فللراح ما زُرَّت عليه جيوبَها

وللماء ما دارت عليه القلانسُ

وللماء ما دارت عليه القلانسُ

So wine had what their collars were buttoned over,

So for the wind are those whose pockets it has tossed about

and water had what their caps encircled:

And for the water are those the jars have circled around

مساحبُ من جرّ الزقاق على القَفَا

مساحبُ من جرّ الزقاق على القَفَا

واضغَاثُ أنطاعٍ جنِّى ويابسُ

واضغَاثُ أنطاعٍ جنِّى ويابسُ

trails from dragging wineskins along on their backs,

Scrapers along the street corners on their ankles

and bundles of leather mats, fresh and dry.

Withered weeds of Anṭāʿ, soft and dry