Abu at-Tayyib al-Mutanabbi


When My Hands - Poem by Abu at-Tayyib al-Mutanabbi

When my hands from brimming cups weakly shook,
I awoke, ere sense my wined mind forsook.
Shunning choice wines, as rich as purest gold,
I, of spring showers silv'ry draught partook.


Comments about When My Hands by Abu at-Tayyib al-Mutanabbi

There is no comment submitted by members..



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?



Poem Submitted: Tuesday, January 7, 2014

Poem Edited: Tuesday, January 7, 2014


[Hata Bildir]