وَإِنّيand indeed I لَأَلهوsurely make merry بِالمُدامِwith wine وَإِنَّهاand indeed it
وَإِنّي لَأَلهو بِالمُدامِ وَإِنَّها
لَمَورِدُsurely a place of entry حَزمٍprudence إِنif فَعَلتُI do so وَمَصدَرُand a place of departure
لَمَورِدُ حَزمٍ إِن فَعَلتُ وَمَصدَرُ
And I do indeed make merry with wine, and it
is surely, if I do so, where prudence enters and departs.
وَيُطرِبُنيand delights me فيin مَجلِسِa gathering الأُنسِconviviality بَينَناamong us
وَيُطرِبُني في مَجلِسِ الأُنسِ بَينَنا
أَنابيبُpipes فيin أَجوافِهاtheir hollows الريحُthe wind تَصفِرُwhistles
أَنابيبُ في أَجوافِها الريحُ تَصفِرُ
And at our convivial gathering I am delighted
by pipes in whose hollows the wind whistles.
وَدُهمٍand dark ones بِأَيديin the hands of الغانِياتِthe beautiful women تَقَعقَعَتrattled
وَدُهمٍ بِأَيدي الغانِياتِ تَقَعقَعَت
مَفاصِلُهاtheir joints مِنfrom هَولِterror ماwhat تَتَنَظَّرُthey await
مَفاصِلُها مِن هَولِ ما تَتَنَظَّرُ
And dark ones in lovely women's hands, rattling
at their joints from dread of what they await;
وَصُفرِand yellow ones جُفونٍeyelids ماnot بَكَتwept بِمَدامِعٍwith tears
وَصُفرِ جُفونٍ ما بَكَت بِمَدامِعٍ
وَلَكِنَّهاbut they are روحٌa spirit تَذوبُmelts وَتَقطُرُand drips
وَلَكِنَّها روحٌ تَذوبُ وَتَقطُرُ
And yellow-lidded ones that have not wept with tears,
but are a spirit that melts and drips;
وَأَشمَطَand a grizzled one مَحنِيِّbent الضُلوعِthe ribs عَلىover لَظىa blaze
وَأَشمَطَ مَحنِيِّ الضُلوعِ عَلى لَظى
بِهِupon him الضُرُّaffliction إِلّاexcept أَنَّهُthat he يَتَسَتَّرُkeeps himself covered
بِهِ الضُرُّ إِلّا أَنَّهُ يَتَسَتَّرُ
And a grizzled one, his ribs bent over a blaze,
afflicted, yet keeping himself covered.
إِذاwhen اِنجابَlifted جِنحُthe darkness of اللَيلِthe night ظَلَّتremained ضُلوعُهُhis ribs
إِذا اِنجابَ جِنحُ اللَيلِ ظَلَّت ضُلوعُهُ
مُجَرَّدَةًstripped bare تَضحىlie exposed to sunlight لَديكَbefore you وَتَعصِرُand you press
مُجَرَّدَةً تَضحى لَديكَ وَتَعصِرُ
When the darkness of night lifts, his ribs remain
bare, exposed to sunlight before you, and you press them.