In all the taverns of the Magi, there's none so ecstatic as I
I've pawned my robe for wine and my book for a place
My heart, a mirror of kingship, is dusty
I seek from God the company of a clear-sighted one
I've made a vow to the hand of the wine-selling idol
That I'll drink no more wine without the sight of your adorned feast
If the narcissus boasts of its style compared to your eye, don't be upset
Those of discernment won't follow the blind
Only the candle can explain this story in words
Otherwise, the moth has no courage to speak
I've shut the streams of tears from my eyes to my lap, hoping
That they will seat a dark-eyed beauty beside me
Bring the ship of wine, for without the sight of my beloved
Every corner of my eye has become a sea of sorrow
Don't speak of anything else to me, a lover
For I have no concern for anyone but her and the cup of wine
How pleasant was this saying that the morning watchman said
At the tavern door, with a tambourine and a flute, fearlessly
If this is what being a Muslim is, then Hafez has it
Alas, if there were a tomorrow after today