O face, a vision of the moon, the springtime of beauty
Your mole and line are the center and orbit of beauty
In your drowsy eyes is hidden the magic of enchantment
In your restless locks is found the repose of beauty
No moon has shone like you from the tower of goodness
No cypress has risen like your stature from the stream of beauty
The season of lovemaking has become joyous from your loveliness
The days of beauty have become fortunate from your gentleness
From the snare of your locks and the seed of your mole in the world
Not a single heart-bird remains uncaptured by the hunt of beauty
Constantly, with the kindness of the nurse of your nature, from within the soul
You are nurtured with delicacy, beside beauty
The violet around your lips is so fresh and moist
That it drinks the water of life from the stream of beauty
Hafiz has given up hope of seeing your like
There is no land except your face in the land of beauty