Though wine is joy-giving and the wind scatters roses

Don't drink wine to the harp's sound for the watchman is sharp

If a wine flask and companion fall into your hands

Drink wisely for these are troublesome times

Hide the wine cup in the patched sleeve

For like the wine flask's mouth, the age is bloodthirsty

Let's wash our robes of wine with tears

For it's the season of piety and time of abstinence

Don't seek pleasant living from the inverted sphere

For the pure wine at this vat's top is all mixed with dregs

The risen sphere is a blood-sprinkling sieve

Whose fragments are Khosrow's head and Parviz's crown

You've conquered Iraq and Fars with your sweet poetry, Hafez

Come, for it's Baghdad's turn and Tabriz's time