It is morning, O wine-server, fill a cup with wine
The celestial sphere does not delay, make haste
Before this perishable world is ruined
Inebriate us with the goblet of crimson wine
The sun of wine has risen from the eastern goblet
If you seek the leaf of pleasure, abandon sleep
On the day when the wheel makes pots from our flowers
Beware, fill our cup to the brim with wine
We are not men of asceticism, repentance, and fasting
Speak to us with the cup of pure wine
The right thing to do, O Hafiz, is to worship wine
Arise and firmly resolve to do the right thing