هَذَ الصَّبُوحُ فَمَا الَّذِي

هَذَ الصَّبُوحُ فَمَا الَّذِي

بِصَبُوحِ صُبْحِكَ تَنْتَظِرْ

بِصَبُوحِ صُبْحِكَ تَنْتَظِرْ

Here is the morning draught—what, then,

This morning, what is it that you await

are you waiting for before taking your morning drink?

With the dawn of your bright morning?

نَبَّهْ أَبَا بَكْرٍ وَنَا

نَبَّهْ أَبَا بَكْرٍ وَنَا

دِ أَخَا السَّمَاحِ أَبَا عُمَرْ

دِ أَخَا السَّمَاحِ أَبَا عُمَرْ

Wake Abu Bakr, and call

Awaken Abu Bakr and call

generosity's brother, Abu Umar.

The brother of forgiveness, Abu Umar,

وَادْعُ المَلِيْحَةَ تَأْتِنَا

وَادْعُ المَلِيْحَةَ تَأْتِنَا

قَمَرٌ لَهَا يَحْكِي القَمَرْ

قَمَرٌ لَهَا يَحْكِي القَمَرْ

And summon the beautiful woman; she will come to us.

And summon the beautiful one to join us,

A moon of hers mirrors the moon.

A moon whose face rivals the moon,

فِي حِجْرِهَا مِنْ عُودِهَا

فِي حِجْرِهَا مِنْ عُودِهَا

سِكِّيْتُ يُنْطِقُهُ الوَتَرْ

سِكِّيْتُ يُنْطِقُهُ الوَتَرْ

In her lap, fashioned from her lute's wood,

In her lap a lute

is a silent one the string makes speak;

Whose strings give voice,

كَالطِّفْلِ إِلاَّ أَنَّهُ

كَالطِّفْلِ إِلاَّ أَنَّهُ

مِنْ عَرْعَرٍ لاَ مِنْ بَشَرْ

مِنْ عَرْعَرٍ لاَ مِنْ بَشَرْ

like a child, except that it is

Like a child, but made

made of juniper, not of human flesh.

Not of flesh but of fragrant wood,

فِي فِتْيَةٍ لَهُمُ الصَّبَا

فِي فِتْيَةٍ لَهُمُ الصَّبَا

حَةُ وَالْفَصَاحَةُ والْخَطَرْ

حَةُ وَالْفَصَاحَةُ والْخَطَرْ

Among young men endowed with beauty,

Among lads in the full flower of youth,

eloquence, and distinction,

Eloquent, articulate, and bold,

مُتَفَنِّنْينَ مِنَ التَّذَا

مُتَفَنِّنْينَ مِنَ التَّذَا

كُرِ والتَّنَاسُمِ فِي زَهَرْ

كُرِ والتَّنَاسُمِ فِي زَهَرْ

practicing varied arts of conversation

Trading subtle witticisms

and breathing the fragrance of blossoms:

And smiles amid the blossoms,

مَابَيْنَ شِعْرٍ أَوْغِنَا

مَابَيْنَ شِعْرٍ أَوْغِنَا

ءٍ أَوْ حَدِيْثٍ أَوْ سَمَرْ

ءٍ أَوْ حَدِيْثٍ أَوْ سَمَرْ

whether poetry or song,

Talking in verse or song,

or discourse or nighttime talk.

Or conversing or reveling,

فَكَأَنَّ مَنْ نَاجَاهُمُ

فَكَأَنَّ مَنْ نَاجَاهُمُ

فِي دَفْتَرٍ حَسَنٍ نَظَرْ

فِي دَفْتَرٍ حَسَنٍ نَظَرْ

So it is as though whoever converses with them

So that one who overheard them

were looking through a beautiful book.

Would think he read a fair book,

فَأَحَبُّ أَوْقَاتِ السُّرُو

فَأَحَبُّ أَوْقَاتِ السُّرُو

رِ إِلَىَّ أَوْقَاتُ السَّحَرْ

رِ إِلَىَّ أَوْقَاتُ السَّحَرْ

So the times of joy dearest

To me the pleasantest times

to me are the hours before dawn.

Are the times of night stillness,

هِيَ عُذْرَةُ اللَّذَّاتِ وَال

هِيَ عُذْرَةُ اللَّذَّاتِ وَال

لَّذَاتُ أَطْيَبُهَا العُذَرْ

لَّذَاتُ أَطْيَبُهَا العُذَرْ

They are the virgin freshness of pleasures, and

The excuse for delights, and delights

the sweetest pleasures are the untouched ones.

Are sweetest when excused,

فَاشْرَبْ نَعِمْتَ وَسَقِّهَا

فَاشْرَبْ نَعِمْتَ وَسَقِّهَا

صِرْفَاً نَدَامَاكَ الغُرَرْ

صِرْفَاً نَدَامَاكَ الغُرَرْ

So drink—may you prosper—and serve it

Drink the wine of your good fortune

unmixed to your distinguished drinking companions.

And pour it out, lest sorrow refill your cup,

وَإِذَا أُدِيْرَتْ نُخْبَةٌ

وَإِذَا أُدِيْرَتْ نُخْبَةٌ

وَمَضَى السُّرُورُ بِمَنْ تُسَرْ

وَمَضَى السُّرُورُ بِمَنْ تُسَرْ

And when a choice draught is passed around,

When the gathering disperses

and joy carries away those who gladden you,

And joy passes from those you gladdened,

فَامْلأَ الكُؤُوسَ وَنَادِهِمْ

فَامْلأَ الكُؤُوسَ وَنَادِهِمْ

هَلْ فِيْكُمُ مِنْ مُدَّكِرْ

هَلْ فِيْكُمُ مِنْ مُدَّكِرْ

then fill the cups and call to them:

Refill the cups and call them back:

Is there anyone among you who takes heed?

“Is there one among you who remembers?”

وَتَغَنَّ مُرْتَجِلاً تُجِبْ

وَتَغَنَّ مُرْتَجِلاً تُجِبْ

كَ بِعُودِهَا ذَاتُ الخَفَرء

كَ بِعُودِهَا ذَاتُ الخَفَرء

And sing impromptu; she will answer

And sing extemporaneously, your lute

you with her lute, the bashful one.

Answering you with a trembling string.

خُذْ مِنْ زَمَانِكَ مَا صَفَا

خُذْ مِنْ زَمَانِكَ مَا صَفَا

وَدعِ الَّذِي فِيْهِ الكَدَرْ

وَدعِ الَّذِي فِيْهِ الكَدَرْ

Take from your days what is clear,

Pluck from your days what is pure

and leave whatever is clouded.

And leave what is troubled and turbid.

فَالدَّهْرُ أَقْصَرُ مِنْ مُعَا

فَالدَّهْرُ أَقْصَرُ مِنْ مُعَا

تَبَةْ الزَّمَانِ عَلَى الغِيَرْ

تَبَةْ الزَّمَانِ عَلَى الغِيَرْ

For life is too short for reproaching

For life is shorter than the reckoning

time for its vicissitudes.

Of days against those who borrow them.