My head is clear, and I proclaim loudly
That I seek the breeze of life from the goblet.
The gloomy asceticism does not sit well with the face of intoxication
I am a cheerful disciple of the pain-bearing patched cloak.
I have become a tale of being lost and the eyebrow of my beloved
Has drawn me into the bend of his bow, like a ball.
If the old man of the tavern does not open the door
Which door should I knock on? Where should I seek a remedy?
Do not reproach me for my self-will in this garden
I grow as they cultivate me.
Do not see a contradiction between the monastery and the tavern
God is my witness, wherever I am, I am with Him.
The dust of the path of seeking is the elixir of good fortune
I am a slave to the government of that amber-scented dust.
From the longing for the tall, intoxicated narcissus
Like a tulip, I fall face down by the stream, seeking.
Bring the wine, for according to Hafez's verdict, from a pure heart
I will wash away the dust of ostentation with the blessing of the goblet.