The dust of my body is a veil over my soul's face
How pleasant a moment when I will cast aside that veil
Such a cage is not worthy of a bird as melodious as me
I shall go to the garden of Paradise, where I am the garden’s rose.
It has not been revealed why I came or where I am going
Alas and woe, that I am oblivious to my own affairs.
How can I soar in the expanse of the sacred world?
For in the mansion of composition, I am a prisoner of my body.
If the scent of longing comes from the blood of my heart
Do not be surprised that I am a fellow sufferer of the Khutan musk.
Do not look at the pattern of my golden robe like a candle
For there are hidden burns within my shirt.
Come and take away Hafez’s existence from before him
For with your presence, no one will hear me say “I am”.