I am not that dervish who would forsake wine and beloved
The morality police know that I would rarely do such things.

I who have often borne the blame of the repentant
If I were to repent of wine during the season of flowers, I would be mad.

Love is a pearl and I am a diver in the sea of wine
I have plunged my head in it, where shall I surface?

The tulip holds the cup, the narcissus is drunk, and they call us sinners
O Lord, I have many judges, whom shall I judge?

Rein in for a moment, O my turbulent Turk
So that I may fill your path with gold and jewels from my tears.

I who have treasures of ruby and ruby tears
When shall I look to the favor of the exalted sun?

As the morning breeze washes the collection of flowers with the water of grace
Call me fickle if I look at the page of a book.

The covenant and pact of the heavens are not so reliable
I will make a pact with the cup, a condition with the goblet.

I who have the treasure of kingship in my begging bowl
When shall I covet the turning of the low-minded celestial sphere?

Though I am dust-covered in my poverty, shame on my ambition
If I moisten my skirt in the water of the sun’s fountain.

If the lover’s grace approves of the lovers in the fire
I am narrow-eyed if I look into the spring of Kawthar.

Last night her ruby lip made a coquettish gesture to Hafez, but
I am not one to believe these tales from her.