From that wine of love, which ripens all that is raw
Even though it's Ramadan, bring a cup

Days have passed since this poor hand of mine
Has not grasped the cypress-statured one's locks or silvery arms

Though fasting is a noble guest, O heart
Consider its companionship a gift and its departure a loss

The wise bird will not fly into the monastery now
For they've set a trap in every sermon gathering

I will not complain about the ill-tempered ascetic; it's a custom
That when morning dawns, evening follows

When my beloved walks to view the meadow
Convey my message to her, O breeze

Is that rival, who drinks clear wine day and night
Capable of remembering the pain of thirst?

Hafez, if Asif doesn't grant your heart's desire
You'll hardly achieve your heart's desire by your own will