تَمَتَّع بِأَنفاسِ الضُحى وَالأَصائِلِ

تَمَتَّع بِأَنفاسِ الضُحى وَالأَصائِلِ

وَحُثَّ كُؤوسَ الراحِ حُمرَ الغَلائِلِ

وَحُثَّ كُؤوسَ الراحِ حُمرَ الغَلائِلِ

Delight in the breaths of late morning and late afternoons,

Enjoy the breezes of the radiant morn and evening,

And hurry along the wine-cups, crimson-robed;

And quaff brimming goblets of limpid ruby wine.

وَجَوسَقِ بُستانٍ أَنيقٍ كَأَنَّهُ

وَجَوسَقِ بُستانٍ أَنيقٍ كَأَنَّهُ

أَرانا مِنَ الفِردَوسِ خَيرَ المَنازِلِ

أَرانا مِنَ الفِردَوسِ خَيرَ المَنازِلِ

And in the pavilion of a lovely garden, as though it

Stroll in a pleasant, elegant garden as though

Showed us the finest dwellings in Paradise;

It were a vision of Paradise, the fairest place.

وَمُطَّرِدِ الأَمواجِ مُضطَرِبِ الحَشى

وَمُطَّرِدِ الأَمواجِ مُضطَرِبِ الحَشى

كَأَنَّ حَشاهُ جُرِّحَت بِالجَنادِلِ

كَأَنَّ حَشاهُ جُرِّحَت بِالجَنادِلِ

And in a stream of ceaseless waves, its heart in turmoil,

On the surging, tumultuous sea that seems

As though its heart had been gashed by boulders.

As if its waves were torn by cleaving swords.

تَثاءَبَ ظِلُّ المَوجِ في صَفَحاتِهِ

تَثاءَبَ ظِلُّ المَوجِ في صَفَحاتِهِ

فَذَرَّ عَلَيهِ مِن جَنِيِّ المَكاحِلِ

فَذَرَّ عَلَيهِ مِن جَنِيِّ المَكاحِلِ

The wave's shadow yawned upon its surfaces,

The shadow of the wave yawns on its surface

Then sprinkled over it some of the kohl-pots' harvest.

Sprinkling it with particles of liquid kohl.

وَلِلذَّهَبِيّاتِ اِصفَرارُ ذَوي هَوىً

وَلِلذَّهَبِيّاتِ اِصفَرارُ ذَوي هَوىً

أَطَلَّ عَلَيهِم في الجُسومِ النَواحِلِ

أَطَلَّ عَلَيهِم في الجُسومِ النَواحِلِ

And the golden ones have the pallor of lovers,

And the blondes have a yellow pallor, as though

Over whom, within their wasted bodies, loomed

Gazelles had gazed upon them with languid eyes.

صَواعِقُ مِن مَسِّ الهَوى كَذي هَوىً

صَواعِقُ مِن مَسِّ الهَوى كَذي هَوىً

يَخِرُّ صَريعاً مِن مَقالِ العَواذِلِ

يَخِرُّ صَريعاً مِن مَقالِ العَواذِلِ

Thunderbolts from love's touch—like a lover

Lightning bolts of passion for the one I love

Who falls stricken at the reproaching women's words.

Strike down the ardent lover with potent shafts.

يُجاوِدُ صَوبَ المُزنِ حينَ نُضوبها

يُجاوِدُ صَوبَ المُزنِ حينَ نُضوبها

نثيرُ اللآلي مِن جُفونٍ هَوامِلِ

نثيرُ اللآلي مِن جُفونٍ هَوامِلِ

When the clouds run dry, their downpour is rivaled in bounty

He contends with the wine-flask when it is empty,

By a scattering of pearls from streaming eyelids.

Stirring tears from the lashes of the wine-bearer.

كَأَنَّ سَقيطَ الدَمعِ مِنها مَدامِعُ ال

كَأَنَّ سَقيطَ الدَمعِ مِنها مَدامِعُ ال

مُحِبِّ جَرَت حُزناً لِتَوديعِ راحِلِ

مُحِبِّ جَرَت حُزناً لِتَوديعِ راحِلِ

As though the teardrops falling from them were the tears of the

As though her falling tears were those

Lover, flowing in grief to bid farewell to one departing;

Of a lover weeping at her departing camel-rider.

وَنَغمَةِ شادٍ تَرقُصُ الروحُ كُلَّما

وَنَغمَةِ شادٍ تَرقُصُ الروحُ كُلَّما

تَرَنَّمَ في أَعضائِنا وَالمَفاصِلِ

تَرَنَّمَ في أَعضائِنا وَالمَفاصِلِ

And in a singer's melody: the soul dances—whenever

The melody of the lute stirs the soul whenever

He sings—within our limbs and joints.

It trills through our limbs and joints.

يُجاوِبُ صَوتَ العودِ في الدَّوحِ إِن شَدا

يُجاوِبُ صَوتَ العودِ في الدَّوحِ إِن شَدا

عَلى عَذَباتِ البانِ صَوتُ البَلابِلِ

عَلى عَذَباتِ البانِ صَوتُ البَلابِلِ

Answering the lute's voice amid the spreading trees, when it sings,

It responds to the voice of the lute in the retreat, if it wails,

On the bān trees' tender branch-tips, is the nightingales' voice.

With the voices of the nightingales in the branches.