O gentle breeze, you carry the fragrance of that musky curl
May you remain as a memory, since you have its scent
My heart, which is a jewel of the secrets of beauty and love
I can give it to you if you treat it well
There is nothing to say about that pleasing form
Except that you have ill-tempered rivals
The song of your nightingale, O flower, where is it pleasing?
When your ear and mind are with frivolous birds
My head is intoxicated by your draught, it is written
From which jug is this that you have in your jug?
O cypress, do not boast of your slenderness
For if you were to reach it, you would bow your head in shame
To speak of the realms of beauty, like the rising sun
You deserve to have moon-faced slaves
The robe of beauty selling is befitting you
For, like a flower, you have all the ways of color and scent
Do not seek the jewel of love from the corner of Hafez's monastery
Do not step out if you have a desire to search