As a wine jug, I boil with the fire of my heart
I have sealed my lips, I drink blood and am silent.
My desire is to lay claim to the lips of my beloved
See me, I strive with my soul in this matter.
When will I be free from the sorrow of my heart? For every moment
An Indian beauty's locks ring in my ear.
Far be it from me to claim belief in my own obedience
This much is true: I occasionally drink a cup.
I have hope that on the Day of Judgment, despite the enemy
His forgiving grace will not place the burden of sin on my shoulders.
My father sold the garden of Paradise for two grains of wheat
Why shouldn't I sell the kingdom of the world for a drop?
My wearing a robe is not out of the utmost piety
It is a veil over a hundred hidden faults.
I who desire to drink nothing but from the tavern
What can I do if I do not listen to the words of the old wine-seller?
If the musician of the love assembly strikes up a tune like this
Hafez's poetry will take my senses away during the mystical trance.