Quatrain: 1 @ 9
O you who in the entire universe are the chosen object of my heart!
you who is dearer to me that the soul that animates me, the eyes m’éclairent!
there is nothing, O idol , more precious than life,
well! thou art a hundred times more valuable.
The Eve-you, come, come, and for the satisfaction of my heart,
give me the explanation of a problem,
bring me a jug of wine quickly, and drink
before we make our pitchers clean dust.
The hen I am dead, wash me with was of the vine,
instead of prayers, sing the praises of my tomb of the cup and the wine.
If you want to find myself in the last days,
looking me in the dust mourning for the tavern.
P ince no one can answer you of the day tomorrow, hasten to
rejoice in your heart full of sadness, wood, O sweet moon!
wood cut ruby, moon in the sky
turn a long time, but we find there.
P witzerland be the lover all year long drunken fool,
absorbed by the wine, covered with shame!
when we have sound reason, grief assails us on every side
we are just drunk, well, come what may !
B hile my person is beautiful, the perfume which exhales a pleasant,
that the complexion of my face rivals that of the tulip,
that my waist is slender like a cypress, he did not been shown,
however, why my heavenly artist deigned m’ébaucher on this earth.
J e want to drink wine, so many
that the smell of earth to get out when I get home,
that drinking half-drunk the day before that on my grave will
be able, by reason only of that smell, down dead drunk.
D years the religion of hope as you clip the heart as you can,
in the presence of binding yourself with a perfect friend,
know well, one hundred Kaaba, made of earth and water, are not worth a heart
, then, let thy Kaaba and instead goes in search of a heart.
The Day when I take in my hand a cup of wine
and where, in the joy of my soul, I become dead drunk, then
in this state of fire that consumes me, I see one hundred miracles happen,
the mystery of me everything becomes as clear as water.