Disheveled locks, perspiring, smiling lips and drunk

Shirt torn, singing ghazals, wine flask in hand

Their narcissus eyes seeking quarrel, their lips mocking

Last midnight came to my pillow and sat

Brought their head to my ear with a sorrowful voice

Said 'O my long-time lover, are you sleeping?'

A lover who is given such dawn wine

Would be love's infidel if they don't become wine-worshipping

Go, O ascetic, and don't find fault with the pain-bearers

For they gave us no gift but this on the day of Alast

What He poured in our cup, we drank

Whether it's paradise wine or intoxicating wine

The laughter of the wine cup and the knotted locks of the beloved

Ah, how many vows of repentance broke like Hafez's vow