I have a decree from the old wine-server and an ancient promise
That wine is forbidden where there is no beloved or companion.
I wish to tear off this cloak of hypocrisy, what can I do?
For the spirit, the company of the impure is a painful torment.
Until perhaps the beloved’s lips will pour a drop upon me
For years I have resided at the tavern door.
Perhaps my long service has been forgotten
O morning breeze, remind him of the old promise.
After a hundred years, if you pass over my grave
Let a lofty cypress rise from my flower, dancing.
The beloved, with a hundred hopes, first stole my heart
Apparently, noble people do not forget promises.
O bud, do not be disheartened by this closed situation
For at dawn you will find help and the breath of the breeze.
O heart, seek improvement from another source
A lover’s pain cannot be cured by a physician.
Learn the jewel of knowledge to carry with you
For gold and silver are the portion of others.
The trap is strong unless the beloved shows divine mercy
Otherwise, man will not benefit from the evil Satan.
Hafez, if you have no gold or silver, be grateful
What is better than the wealth of eloquent speech and a sound mind?