O heart, why don't you journey to the beloved’s lane?
You gather equipment but don’t act

You hold the polo mallet but don’t strike the ball
You achieve victory but don’t hunt

This blood that waves in your liver
Why don’t you put it in the service of your beloved’s color and fragrance?

The musk deer didn’t get its scent from creation to
Not pass over the dust of the beloved’s lane

I fear you won’t take a sleeve of roses from this garden
Because you can’t tolerate the thorn of its flowerbed

In the sleeve of your soul, there are a hundred rows of musk
And you don’t sacrifice them for your beloved’s tresses

You throw the delicate and charming goblet to the ground
And don’t worry about the affliction of a hangover

Hafez, go, for the service of the king of the time
Even if everyone else does it, you don’t bear a burden