When I become dust beneath her feet, she will shake her skirt of me
And if I say, “Turn your heart away,” she will turn away from me

She shows her colorful face to everyone like a flower
And if I say, “Cover up,” she covers up from me

I told my eye, “Finally, take one good look at her”
It said, “Do you want me to pour out a river of blood from me?”

She is thirsty for my blood, and I am at her lips, so that
Either I may take pleasure from her or she may take justice from me

If I die a bitter death like Farhad, it doesn’t matter
Many sweet stories will remain from me

If I burn like a candle before her, she will laugh at my sorrow
Or if I don’t burn, she will be offended by my delicate heart

Look at my friends who have given their lives for her mouth
Who has anything left of me, even a little?

Be patient, Hafiz, for if this is the lesson of sorrow
Love will tell a story about me in every corner