Without you, O graceful cypress, what shall I do with roses and gardens?
What shall I do with hyacinth tresses and lily cheeks?
Alas, due to the malice of the envious, I have not seen your face
My face is not of iron like a mirror, what shall I do?
Go, O adviser, and do not criticize those who suffer
Fate, the taskmaster, does this, what shall I do?
The flash of jealousy thus leaps from the hidden place
You command, what shall I, the burnt-out harvest, do?
The Turkic king approved and cast me into the well
If the favor of the sky does not rescue me, what shall I do?
If the fire of Mount Sinai does not aid me with a light
What shall I do in the dark night of the safe valley?
Hafez, the heavenly abode is my inherited home
In this ruined dwelling, what shall I do?