I begin the evening prayer of the lonely with tears
And compose a tale of a stranger's lament.
Remembering my beloved and my homeland, I weep so bitterly
That I abandon all the ways and customs of the world.
I am not from a strange land, but from the land of my beloved
Once again, convey my message to my friends.
O God, help me, O companion of the way, so that I
May again raise my flag over the tavern.
How can wisdom reckon with my old age?
For once again, I play at love with a beauty.
No one knows my beloved except the morning breeze and the north wind
For my lover is nothing but a breeze.
The air of my beloved's home is the water of life for us
O breeze, bring a breath from the soil of Shiraz.
My head is bowed and my fault has been openly revealed
Whom shall I complain to? My home is a tale-bearer.
I heard from Venus at dawn that she said
"A slave of the sweet-tongued, sweet-singing Hafez."