By Taqī al-Dīn ibn al-Maghribī
Narcissus loves the rose so much
its eyes don't close in sleep
You see its raiment on a stem
haggard from passion
Have pity on the grief of one
whose love was so ordained!
But it's curtains for narcissus
because rose refuses
If you took pity on its state
you would pay a visit
May God arrange reunion
where you sit down with me
to recreation of our souls, ¡ay!
Fine steerage that would be!
And trim the herbs with dainty seed
and dress them up in sweetness
like mulberries discovered
at the peak of ripeness
Let waters flow once more through the canal,
burbling like nightingales
When Spring puts out the call:
"Be clothed, ye stems and branches!"
you see green outfits of the silk
promised in eternity
It's hard, in Spring, to find
in favor of the abstainer from the cup.
Festive get-togethers are Springtime's gift
and none but the boor oppose them.
Give us drink! The only tavern-goer
to be on guard against
is the one who's not wasted
But a well-aged daughter of the vine
can be rough on the insolvent man
with a buzz already on him, when he
spies a cup of it, and guzzles it
From Choice Notices of the Historical Record by Ibn Shākir al-Kutubī
