The rosebush of pleasure is blooming, where is the wine-pouring cupbearer?
The spring breeze is blowing, where is the sweet wine?
Every new rose recalls the cheek of a beloved
But where is the listening ear, where is the seeing eye?
The assembly of pleasure does not need a rare treasure
O breath of the pleasant morning, where is the musk-scented lock of my beloved?
My flower-selling friend, I cannot bear it, O gentle breeze
I have struck my heart with blood for God's sake, where is my beloved?
If the morning candle boasts of your cheek
Where is the sharp-edged dagger, the long-tongued enemy?
She said, perhaps you do not desire a kiss from my ruby lips
I am dying of this desire, but where is the power and authority?
Hafiz, although he is the treasurer of the wisdom of speech
From the sorrow of a lowly time, where is the eloquent nature?