If the Sufi drinks wine in moderation may it be pleasant

If not may the thought of this work be forgotten

One who can give up one sip of wine

May hand be in embrace with the intended beloved

Our elder said no error went on creation's pen

Praise be on their pure error-covering sight

The king of Turks hears pretenders' words

May shame from Siyavash's blood's injustice be theirs

Though from pride didn't speak with me the dervish

May soul be sacrificed for their sweet silent pistachio

My eye became from mirror-holders of their line and mole

May my lip be from kiss-stealers of their chest and shoulder

Their caressing drunk narcissus that holds people

If drinks lover's blood in cup may it be pleasant

In servitude to you became world-famous Hafez

May your tress's servitude ring be in their ear